The truth about intentions and poetry

What I want is not relevant
I am aware of this
No matter what I do or say or write
Nothing changes
And I don’t expect it to
There is no epiphany point that I can lead you to
No clarity to be had
What truths exist in my work
Exist in yourself
You uncover
You discover
I write out of need
To bleed the poison in my hurt out onto the page
To remove the disaster from my heart
Sometimes that disaster is from other people
But mostly it’s from my emotional state
And even when it concerns someone else
It’s not ABOUT them
The only case where it might be is in joy
In poem as seduction
But even then
You are the discoverer of your own feelings
I can only hold a mirror up to my truth
What you see in it
That’s beyond my control

Worksheet: the path to letting go

You want that boy and not me. He’s attractive in a bland way. Thin, unlike myself. Though our weights are going in opposite directions, perhaps I’ll wave when we pass each other by. He’s easy with a slimy smile, something soft and malleable in him. He manipulates and doesn’t stay.  He’s hedonistic without the learned restraint. Dangerous in a BDSM setting because as a top he’d look to his pleasure first. Put his needs above his submissive. Though I doubt he’d have the discipline for the life. Probably just calls it rough sex, so he can take without giving. He is my opposite in most ways. Easy where I am difficult. Smiles where I am sardonic grins. Smiles that never quite reach his eyes. Where my eyes are mostly how I smile. Shallow waters where I am deep lake with a thermal vent river. He’s a pretty plaything. A bauble picked up then discarded. But I sense he is the type to hit when not wanted; to take when not offered. I would wish I could protect you but you’ve made your choice. I cannot intervene now unless you ask for my help.

He’s not even an adequate lover, you told me about him before we fell apart. Soft when he should be hard, cums one time to your zero times. Pretty, shallow and useless. Insists on no condom. Dirtbag and you went right for him.

I was never that guy. Accomplished by 24, in skills I don’t use anymore admittedly, dating older not younger at that age. I was never easy, never thin either. Alot of muscle but alot of fat too. But tall with wide shoulders. A thinker and a planner. A knight of dark renown. Honor and all that with a bad boy rep. Careful until the moment then I’d dive head first into the deeps. Sexually inexperienced but not virginal. Kegels since I was 12, fine pelvic and ejaculate control resulting. Yes, Kegels are not just for women. Tongue workouts since I was 18. When you like going down as much as I do, you want to make sure you can go as long as your desire dictates. Morgan had some good clay to work with. Pain was already something I liked when we met. She refined my palate and allowed me to grow.

If that boy is what she wants, then I was never right for her. He’s bland milk chocolate. I’m artisan cacoa, seventy percent.