For 25 years I’ve been collecting dots
And for the last three months, connecting thoughts
Of you and me and how they say I’d like you
Because I’m like you.
My blood is words and thoughts; love and booze
But that blood isn’t yours, and I know who’s
Responsible for it all, the good, the bad.
Just me, J.
We fell for books and boys that broke us
Falling in love at high speeds, at angles
And we might be strong but we can bend
And break and burn out, too.
I grew up after you, your image, influence
That’s why they watched me, captured by congruence
And now I’m here, another point reached by you
And yes, I’m like you.
My stomach is sick, my thighs are bruised
My body is open, my trust abused
And I understand it all, exactly
Trust me, J.
But I can see reason in this anachronism
And it’s because of my hope beyond all pragmatism
That I could have known you, exactly as you were.
I choose another way.
I choose to stay.