The Last Poem

They say love is poetry
or maybe poetry is love.
But love
has always been fewer words,
at least for me.
For me, it’s more like
leaving what you love in order to save it.
Like the day I gave up on poetry
to try and save my career.
Sometimes the things we leave behind
are the things we need the most.
Sometimes love
is the best part of living.
Sometimes love
is the hardest part of living.
Some of us can’t tell the difference.

I surrendered to the failure of my words
my hands raised,
my tongue littered with the bodies
of all the words I left for dead.
Take me, I said.
But the weight of my guilt
left me laying in an empty nest of pages,
left me staring at my ambivalence in the mirror.

They say love is a lot like loss
or loss is a lot like love.
I’ve never been good at adages.
But I know hope can be harder to swallow
than letting go
sometimes.
Sometimes being honest doesn’t always feel right.
Sometimes being right doesn’t feel very honest.
Some of us just can’t tell the difference.

About Ry

It's so magical, it's gay.
This entry was posted in The Tricks. Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to The Last Poem

  1. Matthew says:

    I feel this

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