Damaged Goods
She forced a smile, said, “Boy, come kiss my mouth.
You know that hope you’re holding to? It looks an awful lot like fear.
Now, you’re so quick to fall on failure, and so quick to raise your voice, like,
‘If I can’t find a mistake to blame, we didn’t have a choice.’
Oh, but you had an option.
I was your chance to feel complete,
But when I leaned in close to you, you
Kissed your fear instead of me.
You had my hand in your hand,
You had my lip in your teeth,
You had my heart on your sleeve,
You had a chance to breathe.
But, boy, you wouldn’t let your fear recede so I moved on.
And it’s too late to change your mind now,
You got scared, boy, and I got gone.
Now you failed, and there’s no way to turn back time.
You had your chance, boy, I tried.”
“You tried?” I looked her in the eye and smiled,
“My girl, you must understand that fear is not some product that I made.
It crept unwelcome in my head the day they had her torn away.
It changed me.
Now at the end of every day I lie awake at night and wait
To feel the wires of my brain get cut and quietly rearranged, and
Hear my beaten heart exclaim, ‘Still, I refuse to let her go.’
So we escape to our mistakes for they wait patiently for us.
Oh, how they always wait for me.