These nugatory paper words
Are like of bottle of zinfandel all to myself.
A letter to a lover,
Who no longer wants to hear from me.
Despite
The pain of what you are doing,
Of rejection, of indefinite forbearance with usury interest,
The abject surrender of my soul, of our love,
I still feel we could have
A love eternal,
Stable, strong, enduring.
These nugatory paper words
belong to me on 3:23 a.m.
Thursday night when only the insomniacs roam.
I'm on my knees here once again, love.
I am begging for a clue
To reach your place within
Where you can sift the many particles of our sandy existence.
Hope within me burns
Like acid at this late hour.
My stomach writhes and twists
For I have hope despite my screaming id.
It seems to me that something
Outside me
Keeps you from seeing that
I want to love you like no other.
Perhaps an enemy of love within you
Dwelling like a demon possessor.
Not in me darling for I can say with precision
That I have been prepared for two long years
To live with you and be thy love.
As Christopher Marlowe's passionate shepherd
Plead, "if these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me and be my Love".
I extended and offered my tiny
Left hand for you to take.
That you might love me enough
To slide a kiss of gold.
I extended and offered my tiny
Left hand for you to take
Accompanied by hesitant recalcitrant
Words of litany, devotion and supplication.
Yet you suddenly, horribly, endlessly,
Rebuffed, denied,
Vetoed my Groveling plea.
"Not yet, not soon, not known".
You said.
"If you must have that kiss of gold
I shall but withdraw my advance
For such ring would blind my young
And handcuff me at a cruel distance."
No balance to bear.
A strike suffers the sifting particles.
Has my quintessential desire for
you to accept the offered hand,
Beat us, pushed us?
Where every touch and word was full of doubt and demons?
Cast these demons out!
Sift the particles once again.
Weigh them, feel them, see them.
I am among.
These nugatory paper words
Like a bottle of zinfandel all to myself.
Now drunk with them.
These words here are mere nugatory paper words
But they dwell deep within my mind and heart.
Oh my love, the words worm their
Mealy, evil selves throughout my
Internal organs.
Consuming, tunneling passages
Big enough for a congregation
of nightcrawlers to gather.
Their slinking, slithering, burrowing
Shall continue until all channels merge
To form one enormous unsupported room
Like the echo chamber of our playground.
And the walls and ceiling
Of my heart, body, mind and soul
Will come tumbling into a vast emptiness
Called Me.
I beg of you, Love.
Take reflection upon these nugatory paper words.
And accept my offer without novation.
Don't throw me away.
Don't sift my particles away from the sand of your existence.
I am ready to repudiate any
Sins of mine.
That prevent you from trying me anew.
These are nugatory paper words.
But only you can take away the pain.
Without their countenance
Watch me crumble
Into the gutter.
Forgotten and washed away.
Don't leave a bloody mess of tears
And broken pieces in your wake.
It's not too late.
Nugatory paper words
Are occasionally,
If heeded,
The perfect insecticide
For killer boring
Fatal bearing worm words.
Nugatory paper words
Could save us both
If heeded.
