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
“unequivocal…”
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
manipulator
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)