deepundergroundpoetry.com

Halfway Man

Twelve weeks weary brought me here,
Standing tall for eyes red, late night shopping with you and your fur waterfall,
Unkempt. The Climate you said.
I bought wine that night, walked you half way home.
Half gentleman half coward was half of what I meant to say.
And then there were those days where you saw me.
Arms spread wide for wind, wound up,
Working at waiting to take off and leave this place but really hoping we were all set to stay.
Its why, I think, you always kept on at me to keep on going,
Laced with that intense, cliff-hanging, teaser suspense,
Yet never really wondering why half the shit I said never made any sense.
The last time i was that high, I closed a door on my hand,
Ink blue bruises painting past my knuckle before I realised,
I am not an observant man.
It's why it took me so long to see sweet bruises in your fingers,
Reaching forward to paint pictures
Of romance sunsets,
Slow dancing wedding receptions
And Post-toilet seat left up-argument sex
All packaged and posed as a Question.
Next, reading the stutter-steps that fell from my lips,
You caught me by the bootstraps, stopped me from falling
It's why I found myself busting mid-sleep heads off walls and
Calling out
Your name.
Cause I never meant to play the 'groundhog day' games with you.
Going start over for rinse and repeat and rinse and repeat our feelings
'Til we're both kneeling just begging to know what the other one wants.
Scratching notes, into the backs of our hidden hand holds
You wrote, "Takes four seconds for us to fall, four years to forget about it".
I tried to scratch back, notes of words of poems I'd yet to think through
But the half of me that wasn't weak wouldn't write.
Warned me to find new ways to speak,
Ways that might let me shout best,

"Let me jump up on your sharp swords.
Let me take your burdens onto my chest.
Let me call it,
Poetry
In Surgery
In Motion,
When they cut through oceans of our mess to see if my heart beats even half as hard as yours does.
Ribs, Xylaphoning out my chest, breast plate spinning,
Jumping on Jacked up defibrillator dancing"
And you...
You, could read the brail that rounded my eyes,
And you'd know what it said once your hands disguised my face
And the surprise it bore out when
we
first...
Call me Halfway Man.
Cuz half the time I open these
And see an empty room of people
Im far too scared to smile to
Staring back at me,
Questioning the methods that come to me naturally
And holding out hands that have never seen bruises.
Smart people could be whatever they choose
cause they never had to lose,
Everything they'd worked for just to prove,
They were the good guy.
But you, can read the brail that rounds my eyes.
Read the age lines that script what it all means to me
So call me Halfway Man.
Cuz I promise I've really been doing my very best,
To stand, hold hands and play professional about the fact
That you live 1.761 thousand miles away
From me
By car.
And I don't even own a car.
Call me Halfway man, reaching out trying to make up the difference.
Halfway Man stretching out his hand trying to make up the distance.
Cuz I never meant to fuck up come running that night.
Sharp Swords and Fur Waterfalls taught me better than that.
But I Remember alone in our home, learning real names from lives we'd led,
Healing hurt scars of the nearly dead and crying up pieces of ourselves.
Hearts pounding from fearing of falling, pulse punching through veins
Beat racing with the need to breath
Believe me
It was worth it
I remember that heartbeat I heard it,
Past every cigarette smoked alone in your room
Pall Mall fumes climbing all the way up your silent solitude.
I heard it silent scream "I love you"
And I whispered back, "yeah, me too"
PCP
Written by PCP
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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