52 (4 years later)

Original post

It’s never so simple as a tower of cards

crumbling like memories,

good or bad

divided by battle lines.

It’s never so simple

as calling you complicated;

a part of me wants to cross the world

and leave this all behind,

a part of me would miss

the palaces we still wander sometimes.

I know dysfunction comes in all breeds and sizes,

but there’s no real guide for how things stack in a shuffle,

or what to do with a handful of middle-ish cards,

or how to be vulnerable

with poker faces hiding stone hearts.

Workalohism isn’t so bad as liquor, right?

Nor perfection as bad as slander.

But it’s never so simple as imperfect words

to describe us,

never as simple as recalling the past as sweet and sad,

so sometimes I just consult my wrung out heart

and find she’s tired,

that she wants somone to listen,

and she usually gets like that around you

so whose fault is that?

Never mind, this isn’t about blame

this isn’t me out for blood

this is just me longing for a game

where there’s no real losers

and it’s just us

figuring out how to move forward

or how to forgive

or something

***

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