Those words of promise

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Count the

People who have said

The exact same thing

You must trust me

It would be pathological not to

There is no good reason

I am telling the truth

Here’s a promise

I mean what I say

I swear

Then. Then. Then.

It is a lie

What do you do

The next time

And the next?

How do you disseminate

Or decide?

I can trust this one

But not this one

You may be saying the exact same thing

Expecting me to believe

Something different

But how?

Why does one promise

Differ from another?

Why does one person’s assurance

Ring true whilst another is, hollow?

You often cannot tell

As much as you want to

As smart as you wish

You simply do not know

You’re at the mercy of those words of promise

Which means

Potentially it can keep happening

When it does, eventually something breaks and you say

Enough ! Just enough !

Then you really can’t believe anyone

You just can’t

If you can’t believe anyone then what?

Where do you go from there?

How do you get over that?

How do you move on?

Isn’t moving on surely, just being alone?

If that much mistrust has built

That many people have proven false

Of course a voice in your head says

Maybe it’s your fault

All of this

Because you’re the common denominator

You deserve this and cause it

Somehow

But you don’t know how

You just want

People to be honest

Don’t tell me things because you think I want to hear them

Don’t make promises you can’t keep

Just be honest

It’s the dishonesty I can’t take

Even as the truth can hurt

A lie will always be worse

The Candidate

He irons his own shirts

Tucks bed sheets sheets so tight

You could bounce a silver coin

His fridge is clean and stocked

cucumbers for juicing, Thai food on Friday’s

A subscription to Business Weekly and The Economist

He doesn’t waste money at Starbucks

Instead, during lunchtime he

Pays a woman to

Hit him with a wide leather strap

Standing on his fingers in five inch heels

He talks in a baby voice to her vilifying

Begging mama to have his diaper changed

And on Wednesday before court

His secretary dusts his black gown

The judge sits in his wooden chair

Deciding the lives and fates of others

Who depend upon his justice for their own

Sitting there, FitBit on his wrist

Anticipating the next time

She’ll spank him raw

Perhaps his eye isn’t quite on the ball

His priorities are screwed up and wadded in the corner

Could be it’s his lonely childhood

Or the rejection of his first girlfriend

Maybe the pain reminds him to stay awake in a sleeping world

Or self hate takes a breath and sinks again beneath water

It’s possible he does it purely for kicks

Though I know of nobody without some reason

The sting of violence

Sits like icing all day

Does it influence his decisions?

We simply cannot say

For he may not know himself and this may all be a charade

He goes through to feel anything at all

And his head may be empied of quandry

His heart of compassion

The day he is voted to sit on the Supreme Court

Careful what we put into place

They stay a life time

Bringing with them often, little grace

Move

travis-bozeman-396018-unsplashWhen you broke my heart

It wasn’t you who broke it

I had to give permission

All the days leading up to that fall

And the nightmares moving behind my eyes like greyscale film

In someways I’d always ended at this sharpened point

I did this to myself

It took that finality to break me apart

I held the chisel to ice

A distant memory of two people filled with joy

Was like a sore on my skin unable to heal

But I want to close my torn chest of its gape

Not see the stain of you separating me from the strength that comes from letting go

I know in time you won’t be a memory

Or even a regret

You’ll be the nothing I wish you’d always been

A cool blank space where all potential pain

Dissolves as salt on snow will leave barely trace

I don’t even wish you didn’t exist

I want to stop wishing for anything in your name

You’ve been a rot in my soul too long

It’s time to move on

Cut the crusts off

038-048 BeautyPapers#2_TomJohnson_SY.inddWhen they say

You’re so beautiful

I’d prefer they

Get a needle

And stitch their mouths

Shut

It isn’t true

I have a horse for a jaw

A mountain for a forehead

And my eyes are

Continually watering

With their words

Some do not feel like kindness

They are broken pieces of yourself

Irreconcilable

Don’t call me that

Can’t you see beneath the layers

A scream is

Not beautiful

You only say that

Because words have become filler

For silence

And

Often for truth

But the truth is

I am an animal

My jaw continually muscular

You chew

This artificial sweetener as we

Press ourselves obedient

Sitting in high chairs at empty tables

Void of nourishment

The formal hedges of the maze, flower late this year

Too little rain save saline, and crackers, left to dampen in the tree house

I always said

Cut the crusts off

Take a plunge

Underwater you can see better when they come

Patent toes incased in skin, cramping their march

Like wooden soldiers who

Briefly lent life’s lumbering

Will grow flushed and warm

Retaining their glimmering uniforms

Dyed into the marrow of their grain

Did you see the imprint of the pillow where I have lain?

Watching for night markets among the trees

Hawking their jewels as magpie thieves

A glimmer of willow the wisp

Forfeiting glamor for real magic

Vaporized by the sound of reality

Clicking like an old boiler trying to knit her self the semblance

Of youth

Glazing the russet bleed of nightfall

Sent off

I licked

the envelope

containing myself

shut

and before I knew it

standing by the metal post box

let it drop

heavy and thinly covered

composed of filigree

a sound I am reminded of

with each urge

to be enclosed and

sent off

I know not where

but it will have

sail boats that knock against each other

with gentle shoreline waves

and at night

a lute

plays reedy and low

as dancers without shoes

as slim as whiskers

bronzed by day

slip in and out

of wet candlelight

 

Be the friend you would like to have

On the surface I may not seem like much but I have always held this truth;

“Be the change you want to see” (Gandhi)

That means be the friend you would like to have.

I used to be the typical teenager, self-involved, over-sensitive. I thought I was being a good friend but looking back I can see some easy mistakes I made such as always putting my feelings first and not being able to empathize enough with others.

Now that I’m a bit more empathetic I really try, but I must admit it has been hard to make friends as an ‘adult’ because so often people lie and let you down.

More than anything I wish I had friends where I live now, when I moved to America I really lost the ones I left behind, as distance tends to do that, and I didn’t make new ones. I know I should ‘join a club’ but I’m an introvert and that’s really hard for me to do.

Friendship is so underestimated and one reason adults can be lonely especially if like me they don’t have kids.

I would never treat a friend badly and I really don’t understand those who do. Even on WP I have had some people mistreat me, those days are over, I’m too guarded now, which really if you think about it, is a shame.

If we all treated others as we would wish to be treated and we were HONEST the world would be so much better. Period.