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Poem for the Page: N

When a potential romance goes wrong and all you’re left with is a blank Word document to share your thoughts and feelings with

How short the infatuation

The impressions that left us in bliss

But truly ignorance was under the layers

That we both knew was amidst

I find it odd how,

We who love words in all forms

Allowed miscommunication to occur and

Misunderstood each other’s phrases and left us both torn

The idea of settling down to me…

Of leading and loving

I thought the rejection was initial and blunt

Disgusting, naivety of my own part

The coverings of my own heart

You exposing your sleeves expecting me to clothe it

I saw manipulation and thought this…

“I’ll play the game too”

What was innocent interest became a competition of two

Stated my intentions, direct and straightforward

Spurned to me by your ‘No’, meant my pride led me toward a

New direction

But again I could not speak it clearly

Lost for sentences which are so loyal normally

Betrayed me in the lunacy

You expected magic while I expected normalcy

Awake love not before it’s time….

Mine lay dormant then stirred up

Like a forgotten volcano which erupted

And caused damage in a short burst

But that weren’t the worst

It’s that this short friendship seems over and this tortured pilgrim remains

Enslaved to distrust those with intentions

And the list of broken hearts from his personal failings gets stained

With another name….

Makes him feel the initial pain which he shares whenever they want to heal him

I never meant to open you up and leave you helpless

In hindsight I should have covered you.

I never learn and then I spurned

The idea that we could be friends

When it was all founded on mutual hobbies

Interests and the offer of a coffee

Which became a mini melodrama?

I don’t even know……

I blame Joshua Harris a little

And salmon

And books which wrestle the heart as well as the mind

Look after Malcolm for me

And remember the descent of William Stoner

For we will join him soon

Your kind hearted apology will not be forgotten

Nor will the enlightenment in the museum

Forgive me for my Stanley-like tendencies

Maybe one day this brute could raise a godly youth

And love a godly wife

And be a godly man

But until then, he wrestles with being a human

And does so sadly…

In solitude.

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