ROPE

 Given enough time and rope, 

we all fashion our own nooses. 

The truth cannot hide forever; 

it too, 

in the end, 

always gives up its fruit. 

Have you blocked me yet, 

silenced the voice, 

cut it off at the root? 

Perhaps tomorrow… 

It didn’t matter; 

if I left it or if I retrieved it. 

I think you were already on your way out. 

Why am I locked in this perpetual goodby with everyone I meet? 

I wish you would stay. 

I don’t want to see you go… 

It’s just the present side effect of always saying the wrong thing at just the right time.

You seem so similar to myself, 

but I got lost in my head on my way to your front door. 

Now it’s locked, and I can’t find my way in.

Do you walk my tomb 

like a sentry waiting to see what crawls into the light? 

Nothing good lives in the depths of self-loathing. 

Deeds, not words; 

words quickly turn to ash with the turning of the day. 

It’s in the actions that we take that illuminate the true nature. 

The only one who could help me died. 

I’m only left with these dark eyes 

that wait for the bite in every kiss 

the knife in the back with each hug. 

I wasn’t trying to steal away your time; 

it was just nice talking to someone again. 

Words with meat on the bone, 

not the idle banter that so many pass as conversation. 

That is what my soul craves.