Thursday, August 14, 2014

Conversations with self.

I have never been at a loss for words.
There has always been something to say
A side to take, something to fight for.
I have never made compromises
To comply with life before
There’s a different me in the mirror.
I am almost prompted to ask
Who are you?
But I don’t.
I know I am afraid of the answer.
_______________________________

This is it.
Everything you ever wanted,
Is this close to being yours
And this close to slipping away.
How can you say
There is no choice?
 ______________________________

And so he left.
Did I not warn you?
His ways were fickle.
His manner was elusive.
No, you are not him.
And will never be.
Be thankful for that.
 ______________________________

The poet of love
His words were ethereal
His pen was magical
His muse was unreal.


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