01/03/2025
The tattoos of you,
Left in my life askew,
From sweet potatoes,
To my local Indian eats.
I can barely look at the ground,
Without seeing your bare feet’s.
Our friends remark how beautiful we were,
Assuming some great calamity or sorrow,
You say the beautiful things exist for themselves,
But I see our lack of purpose made it so.
You tried to cut us down at every turn,
But now want to sing of our great love,
Let me take a stab,
This fairytale you were so sure,
was doomed and false all along,
So as you foresee,
Comes self fulfilling prophecy,
And this whole time you thought it was me.
These tattoos of you,
Still gracing the walls,
History of my heartcave,
Cautionary tales of love too sweet,
Lacking sustaining meat,
Not wanting another human,
As much as a selfish retreat.
-thom Alexander