Dark Poetry Prose Poetry June 6, 2003 Dark Poetic Prose

06-06-03 friday 9pm brick NJ

if i'm gone,
if i never was there;
if life should puncture
the stars,
would the sky be empty then,
or just less crowded?

if you meant to,
if you never had any intent;
could it matter now,
and if it could, then how?
could thhose scars
be removed,
could first love
ever be second?

if you're settling in,
if you had always been;
i just caught you on the verge
of something better than,
should i be sorry what i didn't get
or happy for what you think you have?

if those calls come in
more and more prevalent,
if that makes you happy
when nothing else can;
i just hope it lasts,
i'm just sorry i asked
the question you
didn't want to answer.

kiss your dream good night
as the sheets tuck you in;
kiss your friends goodbye
as reality infringes;
if there never were,
then there's nothing to miss,
if it was all untrue,
then this broken heart
is just a ruse;

be it poetry or prose
the rhythms go unchanged,
be it sun or moon
the light is the same;
i thought and that was
my first mistake,
i trusted and that was my second,
i loved and that was my last;
now it's time to go back
and make all those corrections.

06-06-03 friday 10pm brick NJ

old enough to know
when i'm loved,
when i'm not;
young enough
to still think that
it's a possibility,
though in truth
i know it isn't.

perhaps all this time
has served its purpose,
the most we could be
caught in the stagnant
silence you left between us;

you may have been
right all along,
disregarding;
there's no deciding;
on the edge of disbelief
anything is possible,
i guess that's just what
you always banked on;

your presene is still real
long after there's nothing to comfirm it,
but your words not as much,
in the text of friends, you were
almost, could have been,
but just didn't want;

animosity forgets and
love will too,
it's quicker than it should be,
and so fucking permanent;

loves become breaks,
and the bridges that friendship
portrayed collapse,
there's no reason to,
no reason not;
there's nothing except
the feeling, so insistent
and all the sadness
that chases.

i've never really been loved
and i don't suppose i will be;
i never really wanted so much,
not until there was you,
and still the same,
i felt it better left alone,
but now i find myself
wondering what we could've been,
wondering why the opportunity
chose to pass again,
wondering why it's always
my turn thtat's skipped,
questiong if this life
should even be lived,
and moreso why so far it has been.