An Inkling

Another bitter little string of words, not really a poem, from my old, old phone’s memo section. This must have been, what, four years ago? To be honest, I can’t even really remember who this might have been written about, though I have an inkling.


I watched my peers break their hearts
against each other like waves against amenable stone
– and though each strike left scars upon the surface,
they never plunged beneath the obvious places.

And I saw the heartache from both sides,
knew the loved and those who longed to love,
because that was what their biology desired,
and their psychology demanded.

But I kept your picture in wallet,
and stroked it between my Jack Daniels
and my cokes – I didn’t want to,
but it was the seeds of tragedy who
demanded that I do.

And I never loved you,
even as you loved me,
in your desperate, reviling little way,
for doing so.

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