I set a set of shackles On my unassuming wrists So that in search of tender trysts I found a string of jaded jackals While my care and my concern all shrank to cries
And lost, there in the brambles, Where beneath the swirling mists I looked for longing that I’d missed Among the me I left in shambles Keeping warm beneath a cloak of thankful lies
I placed in all the places That I never could exist The woe of words upon a list That, even now, would conjure faces As I’m searching for a hope in hateful skies
But lost are the reminders Of a pain that won’t persist As if a love I’ve never kissed Because I lost the will to find her So I let my heart continue Beating slowly through a thin view Where the depths of could’ve been are tranquilized
Wrapped up in the intimation of a figure stoic Wearing, even now, a garment partially heroic Speaking words I never really understood completely Uttered as if confidential whispering discreetly
Standing here as if it mattered to you in the merest Modicum of meaning yet I held you, ever dearest Bolstering the feeble feeling that if I could barter More than what I had then maybe none would be the martyr
Wrapped up in insinuation cauterized and scarring Underneath a gauze umbrella where the pain is jarring Lying through the teeth I’m gritting tight to hold the torrent Of the failing benediction you would never warrant
Slipping slowly with a clatter made of apprehension In a field of memories I’ve learned to never mention Maybe all I’ve ever been is something you were dreaming Sadly, though, you’ve never seen me…all you’ve ever seen is how I’m seeming
I feel as though I calculate And never make a single calculation I measure out the permanence that wasn’t really permanent In values organized in permutations
I set a set of sliding scales Against the metaphors of old deception I find in the dividing there are only larger dividends To quantify the meaning of exception
I feel like I’m conspiring But never wear the mask of conspiration I organize the images and elements and reasoning Until I cannot see a complication
I put another piece in place Without a thought and, so, without concession I walk along a dotted line of severed veins and arteries And cannot hear the blood over the sound that I omit from each confession
Perhaps we never parted Never did, because we never really could Divide the imperfections From the infinite reflections That we never really started To perceive the way we said we always would
So now we hold departure Like an ornament that waits to meet a tree In days of burning summer Where remembrance merely slumbers And the stars are set as archers And the pines of last November are across a frozen sea
Where reasons were discarded Like a litany of elegies forgot By lips securing phrases While ignoring all the phases Of a moon that we regarded As a bridge between the moments that we sought
And now we say it’s over Plucking petals, all the while sowing seeds Ensuring that tomorrow Shows another gift of sorrow In a world devoid of clovers Saying, “Clearly, have we parted,” in a circle where nobody ever leads
Would petulance remove you if I speak The words as if they were as strong as I am weak? And set upon my heart, as if a laminate, An armor that would minimize the burden of critique?
By statement like a hammer yet to strike Do I concede that we are nothing but alike? Or bind, to the contrary, all the evidence Delivered by an arbitrary pulse that chose to spike?
Would sentiment deliver me a path Devoid of error just to circumvent the wrath? When looking at the pictures made of circumstance, Was I a fool to turn the worst emotions into math?
By rigid arbitration and a need To see a meaning, did I merely never lead? Or here, in hesitation, did I choose to hate How much I had to hold on to the past, and on to you, so I could learn how to proceed?
Could I become the reason why There’s something more to wake and choose to find With fingers curling slowly on a blade that none could pry …are reasons really good enough to sever or to justify the bind?
I wonder, all the same, If it was shame or just a name Or just an answer that I needed So that something fully realized could shield me from the blame as I retreated
Believing, there in diffidence, Were isolated islands in an ocean made of beads And there, within a sky I knew was painted cold in insolence …I tried to be the reason I continued drawing breath through broken reeds
Peculiar, in a sense, That each lament was mere pretense And that, with fingers slowly curling ’round the blade I feared to hold, I simply called it self-defense instead of calling it reality unfurling