“What do you want?” She asks.
“What do you want?”
I want to avoid the question.
My answers contradict logic and progress
and each other.
They make no sense,
even to me,
and it would be all i could do to get them out of my mouth
without expelling all the conflicting emotions
along with my antithetic words.
In my mind, i beg to recuse myself,
but She will not allow it.
“What do you want?” She asks.
“What do you want?”
I want what i shouldn’t admit.
I want to be left alone,
to sleep and rest and fade into
oblivion.
Nothingness engulfing me like
the plushest blanket.
Sadness, worry, and fear,
leaving me with the last of my breath as
the universe swallows me
whole.
Not as death, but
rebirth.
“What do you want?” She asks.
“What do you want?”
I want what i cannot have.
The chance to go back in time
and fix mistakes.
Mend fences before they
fall to the ground.
Keep bridges from burning under the flames
of angry words.
Keep scars from forming
under the red-hot branding irons
of society’s moral cowboys and
my own putrid thoughts.
To stop it all before it begins.
“What do you want?” She asks.
“What do you want?”
I want what i am ashamed to admit,
embarrassed to say aloud.
The weakness of wanting,
needing,
to be loved.
No caveats, no limits.
No reminders of human
failures
or failings
or future expectations.
Pure and undiluted.
In spite it all.
In spite of me.
The type of agape, of caritas, of grace,
that has the loftiness of fairy wings,
and is about as likely to be
real.
“What do you want?” She asks.
“What do you want?”
I want everything and nothing.
I want to give up.
I want to give in.
I want to give ’em hell.
I want it all or
i want to throw it all in the air and
watch it fall to the ground.
Shattering into a thousand sparkling pieces,
each more beautiful than it was when
it was whole.
The stuff of children’s legends and
Hallmark cards.
Pure fantasy.
“What do you want?” She asks.
“What do you want?”
What do i want?
“I want, ” I reply.
“And it is more than i can bear.”
Many of us can surely recognize the message and its relevance
to our own lives
LikeLike