A poem because what else are you supposed to do when you can’t sleep because you’re too tired to sleep? You write, of course. Well, I do.
So, a poem that I posted earlier with some revisions:
Love can bear the meaning of
challenge, but it shouldn’t have to.
If love really brought you to me &
me to you, then it’s you who brought
the challenge. You set our love up
like a crooked card game where one
person knows the cards the other is
holding, so he always remains one
step ahead and is able to stack the
deck. The winning hand was always yours.
Stupidly, I played the game, having no
knowledge of rules. Now when I should
be beside you, I’m here alone.
If I was able to sleep, I’d sleep
my life away knowing I can’t have
you, but I filled your head with my
childish dreams, the ones that center
around love supreme and you
kept it all, took everything I had
to offer, and left nothing for me.
And now I can’t even sleep.
You challenged me in a duel
with the piercing sword of your love
dulled with your believable lies, all while I
somehow failed to realize that
love is usually a fast food dinner, one
warmed up instead of broiled to perfection,
based on take instead of give and served
on non-matching plates. Fast food
love is flavored with lumps of
disappointment, the kind that swells
little girl hips as they drink down a bitter
concoction – a bitch’s brew. No matter
how many times she tries to sweeten it
with her love, it’ll remain bitter. So
the more love she gives out, knowing
nothing is coming back, she’ll choose to
keep on drinking that bitch’s brew down
while concealing her disappointment by
disguising her frown as the smile of a clown.
Peace & Love,