To Be More Than You Are

I was reading about some people, words from their mouths, hurt from their hearts, trying to be something they are not. For someone else. It’s been a while since I was that, but here I sit wanting to write a poem called “I am not one to be trusted” for acts unseen of scents pressed closely. For a thousand dark nights and day's spent in shadows. For the things I will do, regardless of my welcome.

In spring people hop together to make fruit of their flowers, and in summer they branch out seeing that the sky is greater than they had imagined. Come fall they backtrack, hurried for trepidation, winter warmth of another, early spring set asunder to repeat it all over again.

To 8 girls with no faith.

For a hula hoop and a home in Italy she’d marry –a joke, but not so different from the reality, throw in honesty and integrity and she’d be happy. I don’t understand the games you play, both want, but tear each other apart in friendship. Dependent. Leave, come back a new woman, but surely you’ll always love him. I think you love the idea of being wanted, excitement, but is he really the man of your dreams? Or are you simply biding your time with the eccentric, in and out for the demon’s pulse to throb, enthralled with mixed values. You’ve misplaced your life again, goals in everyone else’s vision but your own. The things we’ve learned, the way we’ve grown, too attached to really say goodbye, too attached not to lie. I wonder sometimes what the eyes mean, intentions are there, mysterious, but I’m not ready and neither of us is nearly as steady as we project. Grown accustomed to comfort, too afraid to leave, unready? You look at me and wonder how I can remain calm, vivid pictures suggest you weather it, but my vision is faith-driven, where as my fear is just imagination. Trust your self, no man is worth it.