cubistpoet

There are times when a sadness swells inside me
locked inside a gated iron cage
that words can only rattle and shake
never breaking or bending through the bars
that guard that etherealness of feeling feeds from.

Its a sadness that lives in the space between you and me,
an electricity in the air between that is anything but static,
and Id like to bridge that synaptic gap and turn frowns upside down.
But usually I feel like the distance is too great to jump,
and even Evil Knievel wouldnt dare leap
this mental and physical ravine that separates you from me.

It seems like an impossible dream to believe
that our stars will ever cross in a universe so large.

But there are other times when you call me a dick
in a half-laughed mutter under your breath,
and I have to smile in spite of myself
and wonder if every second of sadness isnt worthwhile
if the Tarot might foretell a reality for my His Girl Friday fantasies
filled with snappy come-backs and clever traps
of make-up break-up do-it-yourself love.