autotelic, autistic, assonance-hole©.

rainy ache

a rainy sunday
barometric flux brings ache
of you it reminds

i think of june fourth
of false invitation, made
the one i gave, real

i think what hurts most
is feeling it was all lies
no exultation

no, what hurts the most
is the cruelty of that word
so glibly spoken

that poor, old, bruised word
used like a two dollar whore
left in the alley

but the meaning was not meant
why then, speak the lie?

what manner of world
with all this fearful hiding
afraid just to live

old friend once told me
“you’re the bravest soul i know.”
i have been braver

they spoke of changing
of being fearless and free
i am but half that

the lesson rests deep
fearlessness is not fear’s lack
but refusing it

living life fully
fear, denied even a breath;
no quarter given

i was brave for you
thought you would see it and trust
i gave too much trust

i know this pattern
anorexic relation
forever hungry

shall i call this food?
when agreed, far less than crumbs?
i could not so lie

the gift you gave me
accusations, wrapped in fear
i will not receive

but i can’t forget
how easily you said it
as if no matter

proclaiming feeling
then, that it was unwanted
then, non-existant

then, in the past tense
as if a foreign language
your alien tongue

expressed and denied
proclaimed and then, retracted

sorry, wrong number
my apologies, wrong house
seems i mistook you

or perhaps, instead
mistook the fair flattery
for sincerity

i admit error
mea maxima culpa
prudentia doctus

(MP3 Available: Rainy Ache)