denial is a funny bird it
sits there looking at you
squawking and demanding
attention and you ignore it
all the while it's been feeding
on you

so many thoughts go by when
you've stopped to dust off the tracks
left by that oncoming bus you really
didn't see but should have expected
you having sat at the bus stop for
so long

you remember the little things
the touches and glances the colours
and rhythms of things as they were woven
in and out of your life the very fabric
in most cases of the person you discovered
you were

the truths you'd been given wrapped
like gifts pearls before swine
rise up to slap at you demanding an audience
when all you want is to push them down
mould them into something soft and infinitely
easier to sleep on live with endure
all the while knowing they were

there are many levels of hell and I expect
I'll visit them all at one point or another right
now I'm sitting in the doldrums the air
thick as molasses or treacle
its nauseating scent filling every dream I
might have entertained once upon a time
when Hero was a comic book figure
who always won always got the girl and
always lived forever

now its gone twisted out of my grasp
like the lifeline held out as the ship sank
yanked away because
there must be a beginning a middle
an end to things the circle a cycle of pain
always promised the dark hero that haunts
my dreams hinting that just desserts come
in double helpings when you least
expect it

(c) ArdentTly

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