Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

Yet Another Angsty Thought About My Tarot Cards

You ask me,
as always,
what I’m looking for,
as I look at life,
with a mix of inconsolable indifference,
and disastrous despair,
when I look at you,
of course.
I roll the eyes you adore,
at your question,
time is precious,
like my diamonds,
and the little dignity I have left.

I left you once,
without telling you,
silently slipping away,
in my mind,
severing the ties,
that you had sweet talked onto waiting wrists,
but soon,
I was back,
bubbling over,
bubblegum pink love hearts,
surrounding the apples of my cheeks,
when you said my name,
and my resolve to be mine again,
slipped out of reach.

You ask me,
as always,
why I need to read the stars.
Your eyes go green,
when you see my hands upon my cards,
thinking I cannot love you,
the way I say I do,
if I am unsure and anxious.
Maybe life is full of absolutes,
and I’m just too committed,
to being non committal,
that I can’t find it within myself,
to see life as realistically and rigidly as you do,
but it has always been you,
even when I couldn’t see you.
I fucked up with them,
because I was made for you,
I didn’t fit with them,
because I was made for you.

I was made for you,
my eyes chosen,
colour frozen and strong,
for your taste,
arms longing to belong to your embrace,
and even my constant craving for clues,
from the sky and universe,
is fated for you,
though you can’t see yet,
because you are still adjusting to this love,
as I do too.

You ask me,
as always,
and I never answer,
but you always know.

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