* * *
Your Pages
Tear your
pages from my book
So I don’t
have to read you anymore,
Because every
time I catch
A whisper of
you in the corner of my eye,
The story
writes itself anew.
The same old
lovers’ quarrel
With its joy
and heartbreak
Rising and
falling in time
To the turn
of the plot,
Its
contradictions in tone,
And its sloppy
metaphor.
I just can’t
read you anymore.
But every
time your eyes
Cross their
orbit with mine,
The bad
sequel starts taking shape
In the triter
parts of my head,
Complete with
out-of-character leads
And
half-baked plots
Recycled from
any old dime-store romance.
Because we’re
both so much better than that,
But that’s all
we write
When we’re
together.
That’s our
hackneyed external conflict
Cycling
through and through
The same
tired literary beats
And thematic
mishmash,
And that plot’s
long since played out.
Surely there
are other stories worth writing,
Other loves
worth having,
Other joys
worth fighting for.
So I can’t
read you anymore.
It’s high
time we turn the page
And find
someone
Who makes us
see the point of happiness
By the glow
of their laugh;
Someone who
makes us feel
We might be
who and where
We want to be,
or at least,
Hope we could
be someday.
Let’s not
even shake hands
But part and
follow the line
Of our
separate hero’s journeys,
So we can
each write new stories
About someone
whose songs
Aren’t
forever going out of rhyme.
But if I read
you one more time…
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