deeper than words

without the effort,
I could never prove you wrong.
wanting to give you the best of me
and not someone else.

craving to hear the words
to cure this emptiness
you left me with.

an open book
a source of nonfiction
words factchecking the truth.

acting as if
we aren’t the protagonist
of our own story.
expecting others to write
our happiness into reality.
our reluctance to flip the page
of an unfinished chapter
turning us into the antagonist.
—
new page,
letting go to see what grows
unbound by past shortcomings
wondering if you can do the same.

seeking forgiveness
in the name of reform.
meanwhile,
caging those who hurt us
strained by the chain of resentment.
unwilling to give
what we want in return.
—
in order to be forgiven
you must be willing to forgive,
otherwise it will never be more.

often in disguise, posing as a friend.
in similar clothes asking all the right questions
giving you a certain comfort,
as if they cared.
selfish intents hidden by a façade,
while all along clinging to the best parts of you
slowly spreading their malice.
causing you to bleed,
long after they are removed.

tell me your worst secrets,
I’ll love you anyway
maybe then it’ll be enough.

never mind my imperfections, this is a fact.
in the journey of growing old,
imagine the places we could go
if you took me out of that, now small, box.
what if those missing pieces
were there all along
constrained by the walls of past mistakes.
allow me to color outside the lines,
and paint you a new picture.

standing in the magnitude of your wake
as each crashing wave pulls and pushes
the sand concaving around me,
sinking deeper.
like the water, you come and go
as I stand in the same spot
allowing it all to unfold
wondering when you will permanently stay
as nothing makes sense without you.

a feast,
giving the best of you
for others to enjoy.
meanwhile, saving the leftovers for home,
good enough for the scraps.