Friday, April 19, 2013

The Story From the Old Man At the Bar

At this point I feel
Like I'm done
What's the point?
That place that exists
It doesn't last
Not outside the quiet hours
And every time I wonder if this is it
And each time I wonder where we go from here
I am almost completely done
I am ready to bolt
There is strange freedom in knowing
I could go anytime I wanted
I am getting tired
And I know soon the spark will go out
Like it did every time before
And once it does what is left?
A broken promise
An empty box of unsent letters
I know how to carve my initials
Into the soft, red flesh of a heart
I know it enough not to want to let anyone else
Especially her
My wife
Because I'm afraid of losing myself
That an ampersand means sacrificing who I am
I don't want to lose myself insider another person
I don't want to dissolve and become "one flesh"
I want love - and purpose - and understanding
And empathy and space- and privacy
And I don't think she can give this to me
I don't think anyone ever will
And I'm not sure if I'll be willing to trust anyone enough
To find out if I'm wrong
I guess that's why its called a self fullfilling prophecy
I guess I'm just drunk
And maybe it's time I went to sleep
Take my advice, kid
Stop looking for what you can't ever find

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