Endless Forms Most Complex

they will ask me, or ask of me,
in years later,
why I did what I do.

why the oblivion sang to me like a siren,
why I gave in.
why I missed the 00:27 train.

I am a coward; there's naught else to that,
I know my face in the mirror,
and the mirror in my mind.

for if I must be miserable, surely it is my own to shape?
I shall be miserable and thin,
I shall be miserable and dangerous.

I will weather this storm with clenched teeth
I will show greater restraint
nobody will know what I fight against.

I tell myself to trust, but I am still afraid
jealousy still wraps her emerald feelers around my throat
I want to know all secrets--

--but no, that's not it, either.
keep your secrets. I want to be paramount,
to be the one you love most.

a sharp avariciousness that spells the end out
in block letters in red ink
long before it comes.

I don't think you understand how desperately I want this
I want it to work, to flourish, to grow,
am I whoring myself out for hope?

sleep calls, because I invited it in
bitter little cosmos pinks resting on my tongue
water like sand hitting my throat

a world where a 'tercet' seems like a weapon
where 'free verse' is akin to swearing at Her Majesty
where it wraps about you like a comforting blanket

winter is coming, winter is falling
the skies are grey and paving the way for fallen temperatures
excellent conditions in which to grow poems,

excellent conditions for hearts to swell and hope;
please believe me, all that falls from my tongue
does so out of love

or, at least, the potential of love;
the current of gentleness that flows from
my cracked brickwork heart.

the wagtails skittering from fence to fence,
staring with one jewelblack eye,
"can you trust? can you?"

long questions unanswered, but I feel I must
and I feel that you know
how very foolish I am.

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