Note to Self [poem]

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note_to_self

Note to Self:
“Stop showering her with love”.
She’ll feel she’s smothered –
over-mothered –
covered by my glove.

Note to Self:
“Stop being so profuse”.
She’ll wish I’d never
said “forever” –
neck trapped in a noose.

Note to Self:
“Stop being so uncool”.
The only heat’s
between the sheets
(but there I am a fool).

Note to Self:
“Stop sending her your soul”.
I only wither –
can’t deliver.
now stuck in a hole.

Note to Self:
“Stop making out you’re young”.
It’s just a bluff;
I’ve lived enough.
My final song I’ve sung.

I’d like to post some other notes
but my room is a sea of
yellow tocsins,
all around me
eyes so mocksome
(can’t even find the door).
I’m fighting against my
heart’s desires.
With my Self I make a war!

Never in all my life
have I found
such a love as this.
To ride upon
the Zephyr’s breath
takes
one
stupendous
kiss!

But now the sullen shadow
cast by disappointment’s bough
wends its witchy fingers
in the pristine here of now.

I stupidly wither
(pseudo-giver)
at the thought
of our delight (so real);
So scared to give my
Golden Box
the flight
we crave to feel.

When I went out
in the starless night
I could have crawled
beneath
the nearest stone.
I felt so helpless
and alone.
I almost said goodbye –
not because I want to part
but, struggling with
my worn-out heart,
I can’t see what I have to give –
can’t even see the point to live.
I could have thrown
my smashed-up Self
upon the tracks
which beckoned me
beguilingly below.
But…
lacking even courage
left for that,
I sighingly continued
with the show.

Now I see a tiny space
disguised in black
upon my wall.
Just enough
for one last note –
the best one
to be posted
of them all.
Note to Self:
“Deliver like a Man”.
Then hollow laughter
follows after:
Irony has the upper hand.

© 2011, Alan Morrison

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