even as adults
given two magnets
we will strive
to force
each matching pole
together
with all
that can be mustered

we learnt
from a young age
that this would not
be possible
and yet
despite this
we would still
push
and
push
until the tips
finally touched
only
to burst apart
as soon as
our grip
was relaxed

it seems we understood
but
would not accept

there is no point
in trying to force
a connection;
it cannot
and will not
last

i bought a chair
that i thought was
exactly
what i was looking for
exactly
what i needed

the style
           the shape
                        the colour
ergonomic perfection

that something so simple
could align with
my needs
my wants;
i was surprised
i admit
it caught me off guard

but in time
the comfort i thought
i had found
was found wanting
dissipated

adjustments were made
and support toyed with
plumped up
or reduced
as seemed necessary
only to achieve
further discomfort
and anger

perhaps this desire
(or desperation)
to find
an idea of perfection
dulled my senses
forced
what did not truly fit

i have now spent
more time
seated
upon the floor
considering a replacement;
unable to commit
to discarding
this imperfect throne

i have no confidence
in finding anything better
and will likely continue
second guessing myself
as i second guess myself

we are the cat
that is both
alive
       and
            dead
but this box
is too small
there is not room
in this state of flux

one way
or
another
a truth
must be established;
either
open the box
to see for certain
or accept
what you believe
could be true

bury the box
forget the alternative
move beyond
the internal
       eternal
dissonance

by the time
we see the light
it has already
died

I'm trying
not to let that
carry
too much meaning
but
it's getting more difficult
these days

celebrate the light
allow it to permeate
to dazzle
and blind

nothing is gained
from looking ahead
into its darkness
instead
celebrate its light;
that it reached you
at all

though it may have been brief
think
on what was gained
a light
         a warmth
                        a life

all weight
        and meaning
is not
to be found
in the substance itself

there are spaces
between words;
pauses
    and pregnancies
or an absence
        altogether
that contains more
than semantics ever could

the trouble is
finding a balance
that punctuates the message
appropriately;
otherwise
you just seem
disinterested

                  or

                              lost

there is a point of no return;
unthinkingly dismissed
a line crossed;
bringing
instant regret
each
    and
           every
                   decision
up until that moment;
questioned
lamented
rued

i have just crossed
that threshold

the hangnail was bitten
and pulled
until flesh was torn
and blood ran
now there is nothing
but discomfort

knowing full well
what i was doing;
there is no excuse for such idiocy

it is not words
not even laughter
not a smile
nor a gesture
an expression
or opinion

there could be
silence;
nothing
but silence
and
our stillness

it would still be true.