PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

i keep saying:

you're trying too much,

             too hard.

you're thinking not enough

and then, how constricted

         how contrived,

         the push

         the pull,

and then, fucking why?

you're wasting my energy

everytime you make attempts

         i defend,

        -you lose-

and what of pride?

         you say:

         you want nothing,

         you claim:

         to know my fears inside,

it's easier for me

         to dick you around,

than it is for me to face you

         out in the open.

But what exactly, Am I trying to hide?

        -feels like nothing-

yet everytime, it comes up

i'm faced with the reward,

         of your wounded gift

         of hurt and attachment,

the silent tension in your attitude

         unspoken,

         yet heard,

         underlying in how for granted,

         i take you,

and the guilt i feel is all because

         i havent,

         and never will.

although i'd never say such things

         when provoked to reveal,

         the blunt sting of the truth

         is even deep enough to reach within,

         and scar your wilting love

         with how insensitive i have become.

and you bleed, the misunderstandings

         that were of value, yet so misleading,

         it's impossible that you even know you

         in what you're going through.

and i'm sorry that it's empty,

         i was immature

         and non caring,

         but regardless

theres no way of mending between us

         the fallen shroud

         that hid the convenience,

         of

        -a revolving, door-