day/poem 7

(running very late. something started on the bus home earlier, my mind almost completely blank, and revolting against being made to try and produce poetry... first couple of lines taken from Melox Marvel's Bed of Nails - check him out on MySpace, if that still exists.  it is really really really hard to write anything with the news blaring from the next room... 11 minutes to go... 7 minutes... have to stop, but this is one i definitely want to continue at a later date - feels like it's only the beginning...)

-- before --

i used to fall into people's arms

thinking of you

count their imperfections

meditate on the many ways they could never measure up

run from them before i could recall

just how short you fell of the mark

it's not that i put you on a pedestal

didn't build monuments to you in the folly i have for a heart

just that i've seen you fall apart

seen you when you no longer believed in yourself

and i'm finding it hard to find anyone else

that's quite so perfect in their failings

now i stick to the arms of those

whose perfection is a failing in itself

let them be the ones to run

when they discover my own imperfections

and in that folly, i find, despite myself

after cleansing, clearing, and ample time

the smell of you still lingers

and i realise i'm waiting to be needed again