it doesnt take much to discover how poetry destroys someone, mostly due to there being so much of it that gives a name to when we were loved and then suddenly we werent / it isn’t difficult to reach past the skin / in to the self / down the spine / to ask our bottommost thoughts who put them there / and why we never brought them back up after that person left

it is natural for a human being to follow someone elses words down the path of oblivion / possibly because that way its easier to think that someone will be there to welcome us when we finally arrive; all this given / the fact is that ever since i decided to listen to myself i became / for all anyone else would ever know / anti-social

oh / if only there was a way for me to turn this around into a positive outlook on the act of getting to know one another / but the further down my spine you get / the closer you are to the miasma of secrecy (whose fill line is slowly rising to meet you)

the more i fear you will not love me when you see it bubbling gently inside me

or worse –– you will think that i don’t love you

the only comfort i have about this is that i am approaching that same place in you. some horribleness that i failed to see before, that will somehow cancel out with mine. and then, we could live in peace.


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