“How does desolate sound tonight?”
It must be the future that seems so grim
I ask, “what could warrant such isolation?”
She flashes a wintry grin.
It’s do or die, my friend, I’m dead!
I have done nothing to suffice-
A contribution so utterly bleak-
It leaves me without a voice!
Maybe the translation will fend
Better in my head…
But my ego snarls, so I will wait until tomorrow-
To hear from her again.
How quickly I can walk away;
How hard it is to stay apart-
If only she could see the letters
I’ve got scoured upon my heart.
Perhaps I’m innocent- an overall victim;
Perhaps I happened onto that scene.
A last minute accident, I placed that call,
Now the number one suspect is me.
I’ve got my hands above my head-
Shipped out my own heart in a body bag.
I must have confessed when I passed that test,
But it’s ‘do or die’ now, my friend.
She must have believed I wasn’t serious,
My desires an impulsive whim.
But God knows I desire- with my entire-
And all I’ve got left now is Him.
I wish I could reach out and pull her,
Into my lap again…
To feel her linger, her physical demeanor,
Wavering above my skin.
I wish I could climb into her thick-head,
Flip through her most private-thoughts.
But perhaps now I’m dreaming- peaceful & sleeping,
Not long till she wakes me up…
A kiss in the face, she moves me to wake,
With perfectly embellished lips-
If I am a suspect, then place me in prison;
God knows that I’m already trapped.
Five Years to Mediocrity 