A Complex Tapestry
>> Wednesday, May 2, 2007
At times I miss the impression left upon time’s tapestry.
Still sweet in memory’s reserve.
But the beat of your existence is foreign and vast.
Our beings never did coincide—save farcically.
You were my heaven once
When angels deceived.
You were my father once
When no one else relieved.
And how to harness emotions lost?
Or simply misplaced—still confusing—
It’s not that I think ill of you; quite the opposite.
But my experience cannot relate to yours,
Our pain cannot coexist.
Yet you have not dropped your leash.
You pat me on the head and praise me when I obey
While affection is absent and passion, temperamental.
I tried to please you in every action,
Every fraction of my soul was branded.
A silent whisper breathed life into us,
Always at uneven lengths
And how her oxygen sustained me!
While you were distracted by the complexity of our bond
But never consumed
Never compensated.
I do not doubt your admiration;
Or your fondness—these seem true.
A friend with faithful benefits is generally ideal.
An open expression, an open woman,
A flavored kiss without responsibility.
I am to you an inexhaustible resource,
A tarnished but adequate resource for your innocence to justify.
When in this life could I mimic the sanctity you’ve engineered?
With your pity eyes, you gaze on what you believe makes you verified,
Justified, released from guilt.
The fractured vase upon the shelf, less than half a whole
What, then, do you owe?
What, then, could you rob?
A friend with faithful benefits is ideal—
In you compensation stilled is the lack of fabric,
The absence of peace.
Your wing once housed my fragile pieces
Until uneasiness urged to be made of more
Than a distant eagle’s shadow.
A silent whisper breathed death into us, breathed death into paralysis.
The fellowship between dark and darker yet;
An exponent of the other’s core.
Fragile was the embryo cradled in absence of light.
At times I miss the laughter in the night,
The communion between two wounded minds, painting the canvas of stars.
Sometimes the tapestry seems bland without your shadow.
Yet never real…
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