Shitty white wine.
I don’t believe I have ever
felt this lonely. Being pulled at from both sides,
I can’t decide which to lean towards. So I stand completely still.
At my left, selfishness. Infatuation. Rushing. A bittersweet
reminder of my former self. I don’t judge them, my two friends.
At my right, selflessness. Confusion. Despair. An ugly, honest
awakening. I see the pain, and I try to comfort him, my older friend.
In my currently unimportant opinion, no one is in the wrong.
It’s only emotion.
Rinsing away regret and constant threatening tears, I move away
and around this city with a semblance of contentment. What it truly is
is freedom. Liberated from love, fear, lust, sadness, I walk
to the beat of my broken boots and all that remains
is raw passion.
I’ve separated myself from all of them. She will break his heart, and
the other he will end up taking hers. What good
will my unattached advice do now? As a close friend, I will tend
to all of them unconditionally, but I am too far off
in my own world of patient reminiscing
to get involved in a battle of broken and building trust.
I know, though, that one side will eventually give,
and I’ll fall into feeling. I’ll return to remorse.
I can only stay so long in a fog of music and books
and floating minds. I’ll have to open my eyes to the sirens.
But, until then, I will be doing just fine
running on empty and shitty white wine.
I’ve seen this all before.
