300408A
------------
You had more to offer,
but you gave me nothing
other than little tastes of death,
stingy little doses
to prolong the disillusion
without any of the pleasures.
I still feel the taste of that poison
on my lips in the morning.
It is the pain of every romance fiction
ever written to lead us on.
It is a love letter to no one
with no way to be sent.
You never asked for details,
betraying your complete disinterest.
Experience had already taught me
I was only another murder victim.
You had already buried me
before anything really began.
I assume you prefer me dead,
and that makes you into another statistic.
The pattern is as predictable,
as is the strength of your killer instinct.
I realize that I was only being led on,
into a new version of the same old trap.
I do not know enough ways
to kill the inevitable pain.
Even if I knew them
they would be too expensive to afford.
You know all of that,
and it is all a part of your master plan.
----------------------------------------------
300408B
-----------
I never got to say it,
knowing you didn=92t want to hear it.
I was the shadow of what defeats us,
and you were the shadow of love.
No one picked me up,
unless it was to throw me down
a little harder.
Something to be broken,
a little more every time,
until I wonder how it holds together
as much and as long as it does.
You were the kindest cut of all,
warning me to expect
that it would all go nowhere.
I went along with you,
probably because I loved you,
knowing that is always ill fated,
and refusing to admit it.
You were too beautiful to remain
anywhere in my ugly little world,
and I knew I had nothing to offer
that you could really want.
You left all of that subtle foreplay,
leaving me to wonder what it would be like
to really have you.
----------------------------------------
300408C
-----------
It is all gone in the wash,
and nothing of it ever comes back,
after the rinse cycle and spin cycle.
There is the back and forth agitation,
and getting knocked about,
but nothing more after the fact.
--------------------------------------
300408D
-----------
New friends
never really last,
and it is all cut and fade,
into a new scene.
You cannot go forward,
and you cannot go back,
trapped in a few frames,
of interaction.
The time code
has dictated the duration.
I become a flashback image
to all the dead stars.
I feel as if erased,
dubbed over,
and dropped out
on the cutting room floor.
The film goes on,
spliced together
from other people,
leaving me in the dark.
----------------------------
300408D
------------
I looked for someone,
who might be waiting in the wings,
but the stage was empty,
as the lights went down.
The only voices to be heard,
were the type I find to be unpleasant.
They give no aid or comfort
to enemies such as me.
It is a long way to travel,
going on nearly empty,
cheri****ng a required hope
of something desired at the end.
Arriving proves to be arrival at nowhere,
all the same loss again,
a little bit worse than before,
another turn of the screw.
You can become the executioner,
but you cannot kill him.
You can become the tormentor,
but you cannot torment him.
The only choice left
is to choose how to be tortured.
Some ways are easier to enjoy
and that dictates what choices to avoid.
------------------------------------------------
Robert Morpheal
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