Sunday, January 8, 2017

contrite.


i knew it when i saw it,
when i saw your hair had been cut short
i knew it when i saw you,
and i knew i didn't fit the bill,
i'm not what anyone would expect.
but you grandfathered me in, anyway.
and i was contrite but
i'd never intended to change.

over all these years,
the only thing i'd ever felt constantly
was your absence.

all that time, i'd hide my eyes
in my bootlaces and
say, i'm only human, babe.
and i'd disappoint my appointments,
15 years of fucking around with these old ideas
and i'd lapse into solipsistic moments
and my phone wouldn't ring.

i'd watch my pencils shaking out lines
in this atlas,
needle shaking a finger at me,
when i had relationships to mend
but still north.
i knew the direction when i started,
not that i'd ever put any faith
in a scripted fate.
but i'd run away.
and i was repentant,
but i never thought i'd change.

i knew it when i checked back in
on all my setbacks, and i looked for new
outcomes, that you wouldn't be home -
and i'd laugh at myself like i was your home.
and i'd lapse into a new existential crisis
and my phone wouldn't ring.

you were gone so long,
and i never learned,
you were gone every time i checked in.

as if i needed a reminder.

you can open your eyes now, girl
we're home.

and i only want what you want,
i only want to rest assured,
i only want to rest with you -

and live
        like we are the last two
            until it's all faded
              and all the waters we thought were drowning us
                 have evaporated