Aiming for a creative life

I Am Santo

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We couldn’t nail the symmetry, not exactly anyone, but close enough to win at horseshoes, and the whole thing feels like a hand grenade gone off. My limbs remain intact, but the hole blown through my chest is evidence I didn’t survive the blast. It was close enough to kill me still, this decade’s march from glory and promise to the empty hope of this future apart. Haunted by dreams of accusations that had no basis, I awoke believing their cinematic truths, heartbroken when I saw the tear-stained cheeks of you. I should have known then the whole thing was an illusion, my own heart – now a phantom living inside me – playing a reflection of you flavored by my sentiments and care. Not yours, those alien ways of you which asserted action over thoughtfulness and silence as enough. Hell, the dreams were stated, the meals cooked, the jobs worked, the sex had in the early mornings – hurriedly to start the day – and maybe it was all a struggle. Maybe we were never what we believed. Of course, it doesn’t matter now. Five years on one side, five on another. We birthed a future that reaches past our belief in ourselves and now we sleep as victims in a war, the origin of which neither of us understands. Breathe well. Sleep happy. I don’t want to haunt you as you do me. Because it’s a cruel trick of night that the sum of my days without you equals my mourning us.  #poetry #poet #poem #writing #newbeginnings #morning #dawn #sun #sea #ocean #mourning #tides #nature #sunlight #sunriee #daybreak #writer #failure (at Final Day)

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