Somewhere between broken-hearted and bitter,
there's an empty plain
where a body can find a cold beer
and an uneasy peace.
It's as quiet as a sleepless night,
a place to rub salt in the wound of your choosing
and ponder hard men and the harder truths they come bearing.
Naturally, I think about you.
Some lies are meant to be told and told well.
Some truths should never be spoken aloud.
Even in confession, I whisper and mumble
you don't make me feel less alone
and try to snatch the words back,
but I can't,
and I'm tired of trying.
I just long to sink into this silent ground
and study my discontent until the edges blur.
Instead, I spread my expectations wide on a blanket
and let the sun leach their juices and steal their colors.
Then, I give them to the wind.
I have no use for them anymore.
For Open Link Night at dVerse.