Always two extremes form in
you, and coalesce as black and white,
but love and hate are on opposite ends
of an exaggerated spectrum.
I won’t deny that jealousy had a factor,
but I wasn’t the green monster
seething over some other girl took
some place I never really wanted.
Spiteful, protected, maybe even annoyed, but hate? I feel no rainbows
when I see you anymore, just
a dandelion who lost his seeds.
A year is not really an indication
of how well anyone can know you,
a blink of time not much longer
than seconds or minutes.
Sand may pool around my ankles
in this hourglass that I gaze from.
I seek patterns, for habits are more
telling than all the time in the world.
You seek immediacy, using malhumor
to break the ice, and I don’t understand
the constant need to press issues,
specifically, the very things I fight for.
I emerge with newfound knowledge
as I clean up another of your messes.
You again left your friends, no word,
no reason, but that’s not your problem.
You can’t sweat it out. It’s just too much to promise something,
never having the intention of
finishing what you started.
What am I to you? That’s all I really
want to know. It doesn’t take passive
poetry, so I am genuinely befuddled.
Exercising patience is somewhat of a pass time, but I am at my limit.
Come out of the dream, stop illiciting
the monster, and tell me in words unspun. Truth is prettier when it isn’t
tossed in some sugar, cinnamon, and set aside, soon to roast.