Friday, May 24, 2013

If I Loved You Harder

If I loved you any more would you break?
I am asking myself how much I can take.
If your breath was like ice to me.
If your heart was the only infusion I needed to be me.
Why then can I only think of you?

I dream of your skin on mine.
And your touch like an ambrosia to my mind.
I am at a loss.
How can I ever get over you?
If I don't want to try.

It's never the verse that makes sense and changes me inside.
It's what I don't understand and never will.
I would drop everything if I could.
Only to hug you and be in your arms.
But it's a bondage too.

A bondage I would gladly endure until the end of time.
I am not over you or your smile.
The sense of humour and the guile.
If I was more like you would you have pity?
In my dreams you told me you were more with me when you were away.

Love and loss are at play.
A sad game of temptation I threw away.
I'll lose it again, but never in the same kind of way.
If I was younger maybe you would think that it was for you.
I am sorry for the silly misinterpretations and grueling hours.

When I think of you I imagine someone who needs to sleep.
Even one quiet moment might help you.
I wish I could give you all my quiets moments.
But perhaps that's not how you wanted it to be.
And I am forever grateful for what you kept me from.

But in the end I want to run!
I have to run!
If you ask me to make an appearance should I make it easy or hard?
If I drew the wrong card I'm sorry.
I apologize in the sincerest form.

The one only I know exists in a dark place, a place that isn't easy to conform to.
Or lying in a dusty, dry space.
I might give you a different sense of peace.
A new way to subdue me.
It's practical and slightly demented.

But I can't tell you how to play your game.
If I did you would lose for sure.
And then we would both be silly, sad cases.
Something probably more suited for my current style.
Although I haven't even gotten to the depression.

Maybe, saying the word maybe is always me at least.
I was scratching at the same door for hours.
Begging to be let in.
But it was the same story, the same strange position.
If you scratch at mine, I may have one condition.

Or possibly two, or three, or more.
If you ever called me a whore.
Please let the name stick.
I was once the last person you would have ever picked.
It's terrible and jerky, but the numbers won't add up.

When you suspended me I still tried to jump.
Jump up and up again!
And you may find that there's a long distance to fall.
A gross error on the part of the champion or pro.
I would rather stand stock still if there's any chance of the wrong type.

Goodness gracious it's apparent there's a lot of hype now.
Who built it and constructed this enormous, beaucatiful mess?
Haha, and another traitor seems to have confessed.
Brought down by his own scorn and shame.
I was just wondering what wasn't the same.

If it's him or me...can you keep me?
I can't keep still now.
I swear it's not all for me or myself or I.
If there was one reason I would rather die.
It wouldn't be for him or her.

I would rather open and uncover what I kept at bay for so long.
If I open at super speed can we be together in a week?
I have all day. I have all night. I'm here all week.
Please don't remind me though of the time I wrecked myself.
I was just trying a different approach.

I've really got to go.
I have important problems to solve.
I absolutely have to find a job.
And dinner should be on the table.
Christ it's getting late, I've got to go, but I'll be back...sooner than you think...and I'll surrender the last sonnet, the one that makes you think.

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