Woodchips in the Wind

Her eyes wonder then I begin to ponder

And

Eventually realize that I will never heal but forever be in jealous zeal

My mind is too active to look past this.

I hope I'm not right but I know I am.

I hope she doesn't find out that I'm a jealous lout whose insecurities stem from a previous spouse.

We both are searching for the elixir of love but don't know how to drink without wasting it.

She willingly sips but never swallows fearing the effects.

While I never drink allowing it to evaporate due to neglect.

 As we “drink” the night away our drunken bodies act on sober thoughts and ideas of previous

thots.

She seeks to explore but I abhor the chore unless I’m sure.

My conversation is weak and sometimes a bit too sweet.

 I claim to try my best but in the end I know it’s less.

It’s the unknown that I fear.

I want to keep her entertained in order to maintain this unorthodox fondness towards me.

Because I want to drink from your chalice as long as you take mine.

Because I’m still not sure this time but when are we ever sure when its time.

She entertains her ghosts leaving them under her bed while I stare at the ceiling she caters to its every whim as if he is kin but instead he’s the previous him who used to whisper sweet nothings in her ear.

But then she looks back at me then suddenly I hear my heart beat at the edge of my seat.

Then my trivial problems evaporate before my chalice empties.

 

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