Brink

BRINK


What do I do

if I start to fall again?
Do I pull myself up, take a step back, 
and brush off the possibilities?
Should I just back away now,
or approach the probability? 
I shudder when I think
of going through it all again
Yet, I’m on the brink
of colliding with now and then
I could just decide, right now,
that it’s time to say when
  
Brush it all off, 
before I get hurt again?


Why am I so afraid

of feeling fulfilled?
Do I ignore my heart, at this moment,
and turn off the possibilities?
Is it safer to back away now,
to avoid the probability? 
Give in to my head,
and seize the chance to leave
Slink away from a temptation
that I can barely conceive
With my worn-out heart
clinging to my sleeve

Turn it all off,
and just leave?


Why am I so worried

about being selfish?
Was I not searching, and hoping,
for the possibilities?
Do I really want to back away
from a healthy probability?
My instincts are whispering,
get away, you are getting close 
Yet, there is a reason why
you are the one that I chose
Where we are headed,
neither one of us knows

I just hope that I am prepared
before I get too close.


My smile seems to have an answer,

and here it is, I suppose…
This may be possible, probably.
Let’s just see how it goes.

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Shallow

Shallow
So many faces,
just this week.
Most of them
are but a blur.
Flashing by me,
as I refuse.
Pausing, briefly, 
as I concur.

At my computer,
sitting in judgment.
Picking and choosing
on a casual glance.
Swiping my phone
past faceless heads.
If there’s no photo,
you miss your chance.

I thumb my way 
through someone’s hopes,
the honest submission
  of a lonely soul.
Personal insights,
for my perusal.
Wishful thinking,
under my control.

One, of every thirty,
manage to satisfy
my shallow criteria,
my superficial need.
The rest, apparently,
are unimportant.
Carefully chosen words, 
I can’t be bothered to read.

How many times,
just today,
did some decent person
do the same to me?
Drift on by,
with their own standards. 
This dude is too old.
I don’t like what I see.

Fair is fair,
as they say.
It’s a two-way stream.
To each, his or her own.
We both may have missed
a hell of a catch.
Two more thrown back,
into the great unknown.

Okay, so…

Attractive picture,
check mark.
Lives fairly close,
there’s two.
The requisite interests
and required numbers.
Yes. You’ve been chosen,
hurray for you.

Now we begin
the message game.
Spurting out sentences
to lure a reaction.
With honest intentions
I revisit her disclosure.
I extract her own words,
for her satisfaction.

We both have kids 
to brag about.
Claim to like music,
so there’s that.
Slowly, painfully slow,
we find out more.  
The more we find out,
the more we chat.

Back and forth,
we give, we take.
It’s serious business,
  when it should be fun.
Often left dangling
by my own line.
Hooking my ego
to the last one.

Finally, exhausted,
I cast out an invitation,
thankful we are done
discussing the weather.
Patiently, I await
her obvious response.
After all of this typing,
we’ll be getting together.

It’s Thursday for drinks,
we both took the bait.
Some candid conversation,
our next place to start.
We’ve gone this far,
through uncharted waters.
A first date might be
the easiest part.

 

 

 

 

 

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