Spilled ink – Page 44 – A (wise) man of two faces

Phobetor

A goldfish squirrel
riding a furry falcon…?
I must be dreaming.

Please, don’t look at me.
I’m so loathsome to behold;
I am a monster.

Yes, you will age
with every turn of the page
but do so with grace
and a smile on your face
and they’ll call you, “Sage.”

I guess I’ve always
feared people would look too deep
and see what I am.

So refined
and sublime
but don’t be jealous;
you’ll get your wish,
just give it time.

It writhes inside me,
blacker than the Devil’s hooves,
looking for release.

Love takes great courage,
we relax and show others
our failures and scars.

These accursed butterflies
fill my stomach up with lies;
they say to hold her tight
not tomorrow, but tonight –
desperation crystallized.

Love can be twisted,
full of tests and trials grounded
in fear and worry.

I want
to hear you say,
not say but shout instead
from the rooftops for all to hear,
my name.