Winsome Wontsome

Today I will not write out an ode.

I will not profess, or vow, or of love groan.

Instead I will just power down, then off, then go.

Shut-down emotion and desire.

Temper impulse to admire.

And just review what this has actually been.

Acknowledge how much of it is just in my head.

As everything else, so that’s no dire statement.

But thank you for your time and detached patience.

I’ve pestered, plagued, and plotted,

To inspire.

Your commitment, or for control, or maybe just, 
Confirmation the universe is no liar.

Perhaps just a proof of a great synchronistic equation.

Resulting in something ultimately tradition adjacent.

Yet still and no matter, through patience practiced as virtue.

My center of self impels me always toward this effacing skewed view.

To throw down my freedom, with the rest of my clothes.

And slave after that which inspires lofty goals.

If it weren’t like strolling in Eden to walk by your side, 

Then I wouldn’t be hung up on ancient out-dated paradigms.

Woe to it all if this life lesson be.

That I must forsake you, and all others, to truly be me. 

But that may be the way, and I can accept that.

As it seems to be your way, we’re joined if I reflect back.

No thought to a future, or guarantee expected.

Just allowance of a nature whose cycles encourage resurrection. 

Oh I’ll pressure this tie, until there’s clear breakage.

Wielding only the truth and such weight as is in it.

If that is enough to split free all the tethers.

Those transient senses of goodwill and affection.

Or the deeper more persistent cord of lust and fulfillment.

Then so be it. 

Indeed

 c’est la vie, c’est la vie.

I think I’m by now indifferent 

to caring 

If you could ever love me. 😘