Tuesday, July 24, 2012

Harborer

Fresh from biking
through Bushwick at a scenic clip,
I come into her apartment,
our expectant grins find their trajectories,
as I noticed she is cleanly dressed
I presume for the
current paramour du jour
sitting on the brown couch

Nerves crouch in my chest
as unrequited feelings
those treacherous, bickering demons
begin to chatter
"you don't matter"
howling with laughter
in the higher lofts of my mind
biting a sneer back,
I prop up my steel blue steed
playing nice like the third wheel
is supposed to,
smile through the graphic background
movie hoping some shit
doesn't poke through
my false unflappable grin

I am deafened by the din
of a chance missed
evaporated like mist
on a hot bathroom mirror,
the famous 'they' often say
when one door closes,
another opens
although they never say
what happens to those
who keep trying to twist
the knob locked forever
desires tethered to the other side

I try to make with the wit
as I feel their eyes search mine
like they can see the battlefield
inside the brine of my mind
a dying thing congealing inside,
excusing myself with my bike
I cast one sidelonging glance
at her smiling, a subtle knife in my side
as I prep for the long homeward ride.

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