holding out, holding in

there is a pain in my soul, the pain in my soul:
it's like a vise grip holding my heart and will not let me go.
and i could cut away to get free
but all i end up cutting up is me.
the edge of the knife is slender
the precipice at this place in my life at the bend
of the road takes me too close to the sky and the wind
blows cold pulling water from my eyes and tugging at the strings
of my bags, presence of mind complete with ribbons and tags.
one slight misstep and i am airborne clothes flapping like flags
attached to a rope and a pole... and i am holding on to something tender
something tried and true something un-borrowed, more green than blue.
sometimes what we keep close to us hidden becomes hollow
a chest full of treasure kept close and closed for our future pleasure
only destruction follows our attentions and intentions
and it becomes desecrated by our neglect.
so in the end what we sought to obtain, and retain, and maintain, is vain.
this is what happens to what is wrapped and boxed,
what we bought, what we thought to protect.
the wind blows pieces of it away but we keep reaching, packing it in (insane)
the same box and it never occurs to us to simply be at least clear enough to reflect
back the truth that others tell us even though it comes with blame and brings shame
to our senses that would otherwise be blind and blissfully ignorant, too.
what do you do when the woman you love changes to someone different with the same
name? and all you wish is at least that she would just like the same music you do...?

10.6.2008