Will not consider denial.
The tides beat mercilessly
Upon the shore;
The rocks become weary.
I contemplate upon the power of water
But sirens intrude.
This thing that silences me
What is it?
Words were once my escape
Now they mock, tantalize, elude.
The blue of my summer sky
Must be indigo where you are.
The other day you asked
Why I do not write anymore.
Maybe I am happy -
Misery was always my muse.
But I sink into misery
When I cannot have my verses.
Perhaps the desire to stop desiring
Is not as strong as the desire to desire
An unnamable happiness.
And so there it is –
My objet petit a.
Much like you also are.
But Romeo, coming back to Romeo,
Who has chosen a flawed Juliet.
And Juliet who tries, and fails
To save them both.
She cannot rewrite the end
Of stories long prophesied.
Romeo rejects salvation
And pursues the elusive impossible.
I tire of these time-worn tales.
And so the tides beat on
Persuasive and unyielding.
Objet petit a.
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