The senses, being irrelevant
And often misleading,
Have led me to answering questions,
You've never bothered asking
When "when" is not a timeframe
So much, as it is a
Time of day, be it
Morning over coffee,
Or a digital dessert, I can't be
Made to let go of the
Gasps I grab for, upon your entrance
Or exit, breath becomes trivial.
You steal jealousy from
My eyes, and quite a jealous
Man can I be. Those same portals
You fill up every day with
Smoke and sensationalism, through which
Stolen intentions, kept quiet,
Are made mutineers
Against their vigilant captains.
The how came from surrender.
Realizing you turn me against
Myself. And as the world falls
Down around me I can't
Get that awful sound of my
Own hypocrisy, crashing down, out
From the canals they've found to call home.
Below broken-hearted-bowls,
And lying over the phone, and a
Cancerous presence on the
Stage of Socialites, you still look
Perfect with a cigarette in your lips.
I've used "portals" before.
To mean eyes.
And cigarettes before.
To mean freedom.
But you just smoke them... Don't you...?
There are those who marvel
At the size of her, before taking in
The expansive beauty the moon can speak.
Some are willing to court her,
Others rip the hoop skirt off,
And **** her 'til she bleeds.
Oddly, no one is ever jealous,
Of the time others spend with her.
She's taken for granted, as
The passed-around property
Of the Uncultured Below.
But that's not why I'm sorry...
Or don't you wonder...
Don't you ever wonder?
Who went wrong?
What's correctly missing?
It is in how I love,
The ways not withstanding,
And reason, remaining remiss,
That I ask you to forgive me.
You are who you are
Because I love you.
And I am who I am,
Because you are.
...When I know who I'm writing for...
This is a love poem. As best I can do one.
