the battle.

Sometimes it’s hard
But I don’t want that connotation
Of love and strength and devotion
Oftentimes I am weak
Tired and pushed by inner bounds that creak
Wreak havoc on the mental peace
And I am straining in the ordinariness
Comfortable bounds of everyday
I suppose it speaks to the restlessness that
Writhes in the veins
But I want to give in
It would be so easy
To message him
Be on his front step in 30
But what good would that do
Possible rejection repercussions
Of more than a few nights, months
These memories and sensations
Can ransack vestiges of self left
It bites and wants to claw
Every which way it can
But which wolf do I feed?
Why couldn’t it be more simply
A benign equation
I am trying to put off
By substituting my means to the end
It’s either manifesting in thoughts
Wanting to be caught up
In his bed.
But there is no love lost there
Just hips piston in a release
There is no sympathy here
Only an agreement prior and trite
Respect after the claiming.
Why do we fight everyday?
Why not immerse in self
Accept we sometimes cannot reclaim
What we have given up so easily
I am tired but it’s not over,
That fight
I’ll rise again
Because I have to
Sing a happier song before the onslaught of plight
And be wearied by mental battering
Ramming at defenses nigh high.

Author: gerbilette

Write, edit, be. Write, love, poetry.

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