A Poem That Comes With a Warning

I didn’t mean for you to see that.

I didn’t mean for it to mean anything to you

Just words that sounded good

They roll of my mind,

Please I beg you not to find

Home in there rhetoric.

.

I didn’t mean for a lot of things to happen.

I didn’t mean all of this,

This.

This lump choking the truth from me,

This dance where you dipped and I didn’t catch you.

Yet I still fell so attached to you,

The dance is over right?

I’m too weak I can’t fight any longer.

.

I know what I want

I know what you want.

They are the same and yet

Our souls are sides to a coin.

You can’t see one without other

Being pressed further into the palm of the sweaty bald man

Called fate.

So we spin the coin.

So we love dispite circumstance like we are told too,

So we balance on this knife edge and its beautiful.

Reckless and beautiful and full of everything I want.

Now put 318 miles in the middle.

Trapeze artists can not catch eachother 318 miles apart.

Paint creates no art when the brush is 318 miles away.

We are not circus performers,

We may be artist, but not art is reflective and can not paint miracles

Because in my logic they don’t fit.

I can not give you what need from Sidcup to Hexham.

How can they fit when they won’t grant me that.

.

318.

If I were to try and be mean,

To tell my late-teen self what were to happen,

Look, look what happens. Look harder.

That human would jump right in keen

And fearless,

Beautiful in their recklessness.

Removing my sureness of mind

Swipe my skeleton from me

And I can not stop

myself thinking,

I have just tore myself from what was right.

Who was right. A perfect fit.

.

Your delicious kiss.

.

And if I

can do that

Whose to say I can’t cut that coin?

Whose to say I can’t flip that half

Weld it together again with the strongest metal of blood and tears?

Splice together her face and the shield,

Fuck fear. Make fate our own.

Kiss in his beet red face and scream our pride down his throat.

We’ve done it before.

My darling the dance isn’t over.

.

I didn’t mean for you to see that.

I didn’t mean for it to mean anything to you

Just words that sounded good

Rolled of my mind,

Please I beg you find

Home in there rhetoric.

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