An Accident on Purpose

 

Confidence;

you always had a way about you,

ever since I can recall.

Throw back

to an old hand gesture,

telling me everything

about how you feel.

Skin shows

through holes in denim,

like accusations

levelled in silence

and there’s almost a taste

of self incarceration.

 

Why did you ever buy me flowers?

I can still smell the stain.

Any reprieve from this recollection

would be too late;

I’m too far gone.

You dissipate me,

like a mouthful of spit

into the ocean.

I have lost resolve

and you have lost the will,

to kill,

or make it better.

Convoluted;

we agree somehow.

we compliment each other.

 

Dark eyes

bely a charming smile;

a little piece of sour.

Never taking off

those rings that you stole,

like you had captured Saturn.

Buying time

with stolen notes

and overflowing vessels.

Biding my whole life

just to watch you

wander close enough to the edge,

that I could reach up and grab you.

 

Your breath isn’t even bitter.

You’ve managed to keep

a modicum

of ladylike conviviality

and noble bearing,

despite my best and only efforts.

You surrounded me

with four walls

and expectations.

I know nothing of

this kind of lonely decadence.

You befit me.

 

Where do you find it?

The stamina to keep on

living,

dying,

completing

the Atom Bomb.

Constructing,

destroying

The Universe,

like a children’s toy.

 

You’re running on empty,

with more than enough

momentum

to carry you over

the Event Horizon.

I’ll watch you achieve

something like divinity,

with wonder in my eyes

and hands broken,

from trying to hang on

to an accident on purpose.

So brilliant;

impossible to achieve

without wings,

or confidence.

 

HG – 2017

 

 

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