Unintended

Unintended

A reminder, that dug deep into my heart.

Seemingly unintended, yet sharply unkind.
So, I let it slide back, to that place inside.
To be stored again, on the edge of my mind.


Subtle and unintentional. Cruelly unnecessary.

A mention of things that I am well aware
Slid out to me, with an unknown intent
Such a sad reminder, so doubly unfair

I could only assume that you were unaware
So, I closed the door, and locked out the bad
Spent a moment alone, in your bathroom mirror
Emerged with a smile. And without the mad.

Yet, I can’t even fathom why you said what you said
And I am positive that you don’t even know
On any other, more certain night
My first instinct would have told me to go

But, I wouldn’t have.

This has little bearing on the respect that I have.
Typically, thoughtful, in most you say and most you do.
It’s more a self-analysis, of my coping skills.
Ninety-eight percent about me, and only a bit about you.


A reminder, that I didn’t need to hear.

About something that I can’t control.
A reality, always on the edge of my mind.
An unintended reminder of my limited role.


This is not the first time that I have felt this way

And, certainly, it will not to be the last
Such painful reminders feel doubly unfair
Unintended entendre, of both present and past

Of circumstances, that I can barely grasp
Choices, life’s evolution, and some of my fears
Set situations, that are beyond my reach
Reluctant adjustments made over the years

Yet, just as I find a semblance of acceptance
There it is, pushed out at me all over again
To be pulled back inside, in one irreverent moment
Me, not certain why. You, not knowing when.

But, how could you?

A harsh reminder, not converted into harsh words.
Despite thinking that someone else would.
Remembering, ironically, something you’d said.
About our ninety-eight percent, that is very good.


I wanted, intently, to discuss it with you then.

But it seemed somehow misplaced in the dark of your view.
So, I  kept it inside. Until I could write it, instead.
From the edge of my mind, like I always do.

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Worry


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Worry

You worry about us
while I worry about you
My wounds have mostly healed
Yours, are still unfairly new

Still vulnerable, still susceptible,
Still affected by so much
Bruised around the edges
Still tender to the touch
 Memories, there on the wall
Reminders, flashing on the screen
Taking you back to a hurt
that never should have been
Pictures and question marks
Still images, still fresh 
Years of mixed emotions,
rubbing against your flesh
The occasions, the situations
With family, with friends
The sudden jolt to your system
When some of your past attends
Incessant and intrusive probing
Concerned people, hassling you
The pangs from a harsh reality,
that may or may not be true
Occasional reminders,
that prick you like a pin
Sharp and pointed circumstance
Jabbing at your skin

Rumours, and stories that swirl
Of others, going through the same
Open secrets and indiscretions
The deflecting of the blame
Sad and similar symptoms,
that you reluctantly understand 
Taking you an unhealthy distance
from the life that you had planned

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You worry about us
 and I worry about you
 This is what I can see
This is all I can do

There is pain that I recognize
Sore spots, we have both got
Other aches, I can understand
Worse ones, that I cannot
Nights, together in your home
Putting myself in your place
Hours, rapt deep in our conversation
Moments, spent lost in your face
The nuances of your smile
The emotions, found in your eyes
A shimmering well of melancholy
behind a wavering disguise
The sharp, cruel jabs of pain,
that stab your heart like a knife
The tears, that occupy my mind,
as we sit, surrounded by your life
Yet, there is no place I’d rather be
There with you, trying to comprehend
Distracting you and laughing with you
As your partner, as your friend
Taking you to a fun and happy now,
And sitting beside you there
Giving only me, and who I am,
In every minute that we share
Knowing, I have zero urge to sit
where someone else has sat
That I am one hundred percent yours
That I can promise you that
I have my steadfast morals
I have my own unique charms
I have this love for you,
and I have two strong arms

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You worry about us
I worry about you
I promise you my honesty
That is the most I can do

Precarious

Precarious
Every morning I see him
barely hanging on 
Dangling, precariously
under a lingering moon

Managing to endure
despite his battered shell
A razor piece of skin
holding him up high

Been torturous months
since that horrendous storm
Shattered his foundation
destroying his lofty view

Many extreme days since
of ice and punishing wind
Chipping away his perseverance
diminishing his resolve

I imagine his motivation
the reason for his strength
The last strand of resilience
that holds him there

The harsh and bitter elements
cracking through his will
Leaving him alone, wavering
on the brink of his demise

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I check on him again
battered by days end
Still hanging on, barely,
by that same thread of hope

Any quick jab of pride
is quickly superseded
Replaced by the reality
of what lies ahead

Knowing that rest is fleeting
as night brings the unknown
One thin strand of determination
preserving his weary soul

Nights of wavering doubts
of cold and cruel struggle
Exhausting his perseverance
diminishing his resolve

I imagine his thoughts
through this arduous battle
Through the repetitive rigours
of winter’s constant extremes

Recognizing his own inevitability
his slight, precarious being
Perhaps, hoping not to fall
until the warm ground of spring

 

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