Sunday, October 3, 2010

Trying to keep things cryptic.

I don't like being confused, having regrets or the like. I don't like being unable to share how I really feel for any reason. It's suffocating.

I wrote this poem. It's no good, and I haven't edited it yet, but it needs to be posted. I don't know if you'll read it, and even if you do, you might not realize it's about you. I don't think it's ready, but it's begging to be released to the world.

The truth of the matter

Your luggage is packed
the train awaits you

I swallow my words
As you have enough weight
Without shouldering my burden
The baggage I wish was all buttery leather and irresistible suede

feels more like a discarded Hefty bag

You owe me nothing
But if you did
All I could ask
Ever ask

Check in
Even if it takes years

And just maybe
We may find ourselves
Once again

Similarly lonely

That's all for now.

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