I drive
past your
house from time to
time
other people drive
past
too
and I want to tell them
someone lived there
I want them to know:
a person
used to
live there
everyone should know.
you poke holes in the night sky with your
eyes and the light comes through
you poke holes in my soul and that’s how the
light comes through
you contain within your starcrossed self at least
the entire universe
I am not capable of interstellar travel
all I have are words.
This will never work
of course
this is true because I already believe
it to be true but even
if I didn’t it
wouldn’t work
because I can’t change
or at least I’ve not yet
been able to change and
I have little
faith that I ever
will
I am not a happy man
I am not good at making other people
happy
how could I?
how could I even know how?
if I am anything it’s
sad
deeply deeply sad
for reasons beyond me
or maybe not, maybe I know why
but if I do
it doesn’t matter anyway so
please
fuck
save me if you can
but I know you can’t
and I’m so sorry.
I’m so sorry.
It doesn’t matter please don’t think it matters it wasn’t it wasn’t you it wasn’t your fault
Please understand
that emotions
are like airborne
diseases:
one afflicted
with a virus
will not become well again
by spreading it.
A happy person’s
happiness
doesn’t diminish
when shared;
likewise,
a sad person’s
sadness
is not made
any less
sad
by making more miserable
the misery of
others.
A poem I wrote forever ago, but one I’ve always liked a lot.
Of course
you can give your heart to
someone else, but it’s a heavy
thing—
if you cannot bear it yourself,
how could you justify forcing it upon another?
How could you force a person
to carry your cross
in addition to his own?
It’s better, I think
to instead grow
stronger.
Learn to love yourself.
D. B. DEVILLIERS 