Your Shadow

Man lying on pavement

Too long I’ve been
kowtowing to you
begging pardon for
the ways I don’t suit your mood
meet your expectations
or wear the right sort of panache.

Now you tell me I’ll never get up
and my eyes sting because
my knees creak, arthritic
when I try to stand.

I grunt and roll over
the asphalt a hot
slice
of anger
down
my
spine.

First things first:
You’re blocking my sun.

Get the fuck out.

Heartache

If I confessed that I missed you, it would be a betrayal of when I had vowed you’d stay with me always, a tincture in the blood, a rupture somewhere deep in the ventricles that clench shallowly, crippled by your presence or the absence of. In lamentations, my poor heart and me are such willing victims who bare their jugulars at your pleasure or mercy, tethered on life-support by your eye’s whimsy: a moment’s gleaming and passing.

This is the harsh truth, I’ll sugarcoat it none

Games of luck and games of chance
Flying a kite on a warm summer’s day
Are wonderful, stress-free pastimes
Those childhood modes of play.
But do not think to tinker with my heart
To take it apart and wait until I erect it again
Do not mistake an emphatic “NO” for a start
And resume those cruelest forms of trickery.
That façade that proclaims kindness is false
That smile only searches for a new toy to break
Like a self-deluded hero
You mistake a friend as a vampire to stake.
And though I loved you, and showed myself true
I love myself more, than to be treated so by you.