Moonlit Musings – Dependency

By Invitation Only

Upon my entrance you exuded fear. But you invited me here. Into your territory, your home, your safe abode. You’re the one who chose to be alone. With me. You see and you know, I wanted to roam in the city. Be around town, with distractions abound, safety in being surrounded by countless, faceless strangers. There’s unnecessary intimacy in having me see where you live and what owns you.

                Beg Pardon:

                What you own. Although I don’t think either of us believes that. Your possessions end up possessing you, but that’s not all. No, they firmly construct the wall you like to cower behind. Them and the drugs, really. In your sea of haze, can you remember each day? Is this the way you want to waste your limited youth? Effected and afraid. I’m no threat to you. The beaten dog that hopes for a new master has no reason to bite the hand that lights up momentary escape constantly. For your own sake and sanity, I wish you would’ve realized that. For your own faith in humanity, I hope someday someone pulls you from the fog.

                You were immediately tense; I tried my best to minimize my self – lower down in a sign of submission, but even that gesture was misread and I could practically hear how your heart sped. You don’t know me well enough to know what shouldn’t need to be said. You’ve been hurt before. And will be again. There’s no pretending otherwise but I promise, new friend, it won’t come from my end. Not intentionally and definitely not like that.

                I’m sorry, genuinely sorry, that your past was as it was. Not because it made you any less than what you should be, but because it grasps you still. The past is behind us only, but you wear yours like a noose, that’s always almost too tight. And there’re no words or way to ever make that right but I wish you would allow me to be around for support. If you won’t take the rope from your own neck, won’t you stand on my shoulders instead of stepping off the ledge?  It doesn’t mean much, but it’s all I have to offer. And it doesn’t mean much, but I hate that I scared you.

Jessie Gutierrez

PS: Is this music video related to my poem? Sort of. Do I care either way? Nope. Stumbled upon this artist while meandering around the ole youtubes and fell in love. Thought I’d share =D

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