POEM - Sad Bastard

Is it pretending if I claim

that my love for you is nothing more

than potential’s protection;

a vicarious projection?

Perhaps, if we keep on like this

for long enough, I’ll be able to

convince myself of said lie

And I like to think I’d welcome a change

Our entanglement has, after all,

turned me into naught but

one of your connotations

People dig into my soil,

only to toss their shovels aside;

quickly admitting, “Wow, that girl

really did a number on him.”

I have to wonder if that was the point;

your intended desire

Even if it was, you’re not to blame

I did this to me

This is who I let myself become;

too terrified of viewing time’s line

without narrowing in on

the handful of movie-worthy moments

we wound up amounting to

before the abrupt and confusing conclusion

Jolting from a theater before the previews end

Disappointing you on your birthday

A home-cooked meal in your kitchen

Smoking outside the bar

Touching you in full view of the mob

A simple statement, and complex kiss

Blackout confessions to combat the quiet

Coincidences we dare not acknowledge

A barrage of ‘how it should be’ dreams

Reconciliation when the sky started falling

Finally, whatever the hell is happening now;

both dreading and wanting what happens next

I look at you, and see Andromeda

I look at myself, and see Pluto’s moons

What notice will you take of me

as the Milky Way is mingled?

Will I even exist by the time you arrive?

While some piece of me knows

that you secretly suffer as well,

the vast majority of my self can’t deny

that you seem happier not holding

my hand