First Guess

In the deeps of me.
Useless intern dialog.
Sanity threatened.

Many years later
she appears out of nowhere.
Still fair, crying shame.

Saw each other, damn.
Asked me about our future.
She’s better than me.

The great midnight sex.
Raw, honest unprocessed fucking.
Fills up all my needs.

The worst type of thirst.
We know each other too much.
No rocket science.

Same ol’ weaknesses,
giggles, gasps, moans, and insults
scare our listeners.

No logical sense.
Thus, needless casualties.
Keep that thought in mind.

An old form of lust
so poor and inconsistent
it got boring fast.

Like our own old game.
Exhaling future failure.
Opening strange doors.

“Unexpected” tears
flowing over her body.
I’m her mistake now.

A contrast between
a perverse sense of mercy
and pure selfishness.

Just doing my part.
No heroes and villains here.
Who used who, again?

Wanted to be good.
Never minded the bad days
of our clusterfuck.

Naive desire out.
Considered this my last chance
to fix us again.

Omnipotent fear.
Omniscient set of failures.
Ominous story.

Unrepentant lad
leaving with no real regrets.
Uncompromising.

Through her eyes though
we just spent our days in vain.
Lying to each other.

When the screams fade out.
And the lines reset now.
All joy is long dead.

As fast as she came
in every sense of the word.
And she is gone. Good.

I have done my job.
It should come as no surprise.
Go close the door. Bye.

3 comentarios en “First Guess

  1. Mola un montón encontrarse este poema cuando estás muerta de sueño un Sant Jordi y lo único que quieres es que el día se quede fijo en las cuatro de la tarde. Que la noche anterior y el día siguiente luchen sin mí por destrozarse mutuamente. Yo me quedo preguntándome bajo el sol qué diablos es clusterfuck

    Le gusta a 1 persona

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