It’s Not Always Easy Like Sunday Morning
There is some part of me that wanted to destroy me. And somehow fill a void in my entire, self-destructive being. I showed this and in return you thought you meant little to me. And when you were vulnerable I did even less to calm the fury. Bright brown eyes like the Sun, strong enough to part heaven with their gaze. Longer lasting than store bought light bulbs. Or my love that you claimed was nothing more than a phase. Yours intently fixed upon mine, light tinted pupils reflecting my lies. Your internal reflection glaring at me, eyes cutting into mine, defiantly daring me. Yet I continued to write myself reminders, draping ideas around my mind. And around your waist and fingertips where I interlocked your hands with mine. The kind of crazy love where my reckless acts fueled your epiphanies. It’s been four years minus many days since I discovered my diamond in a pile of rubies. In that moment I let you tread lightly into my heart and for a while Baby Girl You Ruled Me. I still haven’t recovered from footprints you left last time you wooed me.
Ten years from now I wonder if you’ll still think of me as magnetic. How when my negative charge conforms to yours it’s as powerful as it is aesthetic. No more of the creeping or cheating that ended with your weeping. Leaving you to wonder why you weren’t enough woman for this fool. You, yes you deserved to be loved. I gaze up at the stars but you are what the stars gaze deep into. You deserved such beauty and like I already told you I’ll stick to poetry cause we both know I fit more squarely into those shoes.
Now I’ve flirted with disaster a time or two and I’ve admitted I flirted with others while still with you. I can’t give you all the things I feel you deserve. What I can give you, my love, is my poetry and my spoken word. I ask that God forgive me for the hurt that I’ve caused you. And it’s crazy to me how my wanton neglect caused such sorrow. You’d tell me how you felt and how you were affected by me. And I’d release my vocabulary in defense of your speak. Verbs and pronouns were used to state my case, yet I knew even then my actions merited your rage. You deserved to be protected and only your lips I should have kissed, while leaving you in multiple states of lingering bliss. And cherished and adored and for an eternity more, even now, your beauty continues to reverently exist. Regardless, we both gave loves oral dictation new meaning. While we tangled between bed sheets and what poured from our mouths… oh the meaning. I soaked you in thought while your retorts flowed right through me. Lucky for me, those times are still here and our story still intending. The moral so far: you deserved better than the loving asshole I was being. I mean it. You deserved every last one of my sweetest everything’s.