there are times and rhymes where hers and mine could easy well have been.
but instead of a happy ever after,
i failed to shrug off my label
and she gained another.
and then you rejected me twice, and thrice, and intellectually
you damned me and rammed me and happenstance
you condemned me.
and maybe, just maybe, you were right.
no fairy tale of ending driven in companionship is this,
for either c or me:
just a very tale of consistent rewind –
and so now i understand how it was thus,
but whilst maybe you are unfortuned in the harmony you alight on,
i am still, in a way, the lucky guy:
i still believe in the future and change and growing, and knowing
that love is around the corner, with its lows and highs
and mighty sighs,
and its sex and its wrecks and its nights of sheer
and its moments of sheer bliss: unadulterated in real fidelity.
and if there is to be no love of breakfast whys we care to share,
at least let us together
set to rights
the whites and blacks of the dominant bastards
who cruelly simplify to the nth degree the complicity of
where the energy of these
only serves to consume our humanity.
tbh, dear c, all i now want is to work with you:
to know better your integrity, your persistence, your gentility.
to know how i might learn from you
the skills and sets and rests and tools which
your brains of beautiful consideration find elemental
in all their
and gently i am approaching your ability to see and assess
the world as it really is:
no longer am i mad, as a year ago i was.
i realise, finally, the need and importance of limits
seriously in place,
in order that communication
never be a race to the idiocy of the ideological
or the emotional, in cack-handed rush to this deconstructing
something must be constant in mind and love, after all.
so if you can, do find it in you
to give me a chance, a real chance to recover us two:
not for peace in any way
but for life in every may,
and sight and say.
just a chance i ask for, gentle.
just a chance i ask for –
no longer mental!