The Quad

My acerbic bluntness outlined your pupils today against a dreary sky,
and I was hesitant to fall into your arms if only because sometimes,
I worry that trust is simply not enough to make you happy with me.

Although I have determined that I am fated to marry camaraderie,
I find myself lacking enough faith to walk under those arches
because that ring encased in brick in the center still ain't enough
to convince me to renew my subscription to a higher presence.

The path I chose for myself has beaten and worn me down
so many times that I am losing my grasp on the comfort of Bible verses,
and redemption is several cancerous wheezes away from the slow drag
of the carcinogens, tar, and chivalry that you offer as comfort
when the rain is torrential outside at four in the morning.

I still find myself terrified of 90 degree angles rigidly inscribed
into concrete bricks that line your conscience and remind you
how your seniors raised you. I still hesitate to step on the cracks,
because childhood adages have become so ingrained in my subconscious
I worry constantly about breaking the backs of the people closest to me.

two of us

1. me
i have moments where i can see the grey-blue moon in your irises,
but tonight, I suppose you will be too tired to read the poetry
i scrawl into your memory as if chickenscratch can make sense of your psyche.
lately, i've noticed that your eyes have been so clouded over
by hazy skies and maelstroms that you've simply forgotten
how to care for me. no amount of innocent doe-brown
can save you this time around.

sometimes, i wonder why you kissed me with one fell swoop
amidst glittering lights then turned around to leave me to walk alone
outside red brick that encased you like a defense mechanism,
but I've learned to not take anything that passes your lips for granted.
i am curious as to see if you realize that i keep the words you say
stored in my back pocket like trinkets i keep around for good luck.
the nostalgia makes me nauseous.

2. you
did you know i inhale your indeterminacy and hurt
like a carcinogen late at night?
your bitterness curls around my alveoli like a cancer,
but no star sign can save you from the fate you designed for yourself
& the astrology i use to prescribe a better future is archaic
and no amount of alchemy can turn your suspicion back into trust.
your misdirected anger crawls under my skin
like crabs looking for a way back out to sea,
but you have long since forgotten how to swim,
and my broken lifeboat ethics have capsized
because there is only room for one of us.