Wednesday, June 25, 2014

176/365 : Not Something I'm Prepared To Do

Maybe pleasure is
A laugh, a disappearing
Fear, a forgetting.
How deep must your forgetting 
Go, to get to your remembrance?

Maybe pain forgets 
Nothing. Holds every ache like
A starving child.
Except, not even. Because 
Starving forgets for survival's sake.

Maybe something wild
Out of left field (like god?)
Can help me deal with
The possibility that
I might have to love your suffering.

Funny, at first I 
Thought maybe god could help you
Feel less pain, as if
You're the one who needs god and
This "god" thing can take away pain.

I wrote once a tiny 
Prayer, "To crack all the 
Way open. To give everything
Away." Now I know better
Than to think myself powerless.

Maybe love is the 
Real ish we all wish would come
Hold us, on nights when 
Pleasure is a trickster tale
And hurt is an answered prayer.

I wish I could be 
the carriage for that love 
The pumpkin that ushers
Her in, the shoe, the romance,
The dance, the dance, the dance. 

Feel so stupidly 
Romantic, as if romance
Is dumb, as if it 
Never saves the day, as if
Betting on love is naive.

As if betting on any
Thing is unenlightened. Fuck 
Enlightenment. I want 
Attachment that saves. I want 
You to want to stay alive.

I want you to feel what I 
Feel because that is 
How I feel myself, through you. 
Otherwise I might 
Disappear, and that is not 

Something I'm prepared to do.

No comments:

Post a Comment