I always said I hate people that do it,
But I become one of those people,
I'm sorry,
I really am,
I didn't mean to keep you like that,
I put you on the back burner,
And what for?
So I could feed my ego when needed,
So I could feel completed,
But I want you to know it wasn't right the way you were treated,
Though it didnt go unnoticed,
It's actually why I wrote this,
The ****** up part is,
It shouldnt have been like this,
I kind of liked you,
Wait,
Or was it just because you were brand new,
****.
I've got to admit,
I'm not good at this apologising ****,
Sorry, my bad,
If it makes you feel better,
Settles your worries,
It's all really to do with my insecurities,
Oldest line in the book I know,
But I'm continuing to grow,
We all are,
On a constant journey to death,
Trying to saviour every last breath,
Taking what we can,
Without any real plan,
Just kind of following the guidelines set out for us,
Only a few get to be really free in this life,
School, job, wife,
Nah, that's not what I've ever wanted,
I want more, I need more,
I feel like this is what I'm here for,
To share my troubles with the world and let them open their hearts to my somewhat misguided thoughts,
Maybe they'll go against what they've been taught,
And connect,
Sublet,
Theres the real reason,
I just want people to maybe understand the bigger issues at hand,
So if I can,
I'm going to give you a brief tour of my mind,
Feel free to pick up anything you may find,
Just dont come in eyes shut,
Blind.
I went a little off track,
Let's quickly rewind back,
Hey Sarah,
I really am sorry,
But if you're here now,
And still questioning,
Maybe carry on listening,
You'll find all the answers you need,

I wish you all the best and hope you succeed.

Small Adventures

The bridge is rickey, a floating bridge
over a woodland pond. Rarely traveled,
it floods in the spring,
making the passage if not dangerous,
at least a little messy, a place avoided by most.

There is no obvious view, no reason
to cross the bridge in the wet season.
Nothing draws you except curiosity.

For you, that is enough,
rarely content to wonder,
you have a desire to see,
no matter how messy,
where the journey takes you.

This tendency has not always served you well.
At times, there is nothing worth the journey
on the other side
and you are left wet and worn with nothing to show
but the adventure and stories to tell your children,
reminding them you too still have
some of the wildness of youth buried in your old bones.

You are a collector of mistakes,
some of them unavoidable, some of them not your own,
some of them spectacular.
Most barely noticed. Part of the journey,
to collect them like brim on a line,
then let them go at the end of the day.

You cross the shakey bridge. Your feet grow wet.
On the other side is a clearing of rocks and boulders.
You clamber up in the April sun
and take off your shoes and socks
and lie on the sun while they dry.
You will take a new path home, a dry one,
a safe, if somewhat longer one.

But this small adventure has been a success.
For all its mess, there is healing in the sun
that bakes you and the rocks you lie on,
and if the wet path was a mistake,
it is one you would gladly make again.

I tried a calculator
to determine just how many
times I've thought of you
over these neglected years

After a few hours it just
laughed at me: ERROR
I had to laugh as well
The ****** thing was right