An Honest Poem (Part II)

I’ve never been fond of the idea
of “stealing your heart.”
For some reason,
the theory of theivery
as the method
of acquiring affection
seems less
than the pretensions
that Holly and Wood
attempt to portray.

We are not actors,
and I refuse to perform
on the stage
of your heart,
when every step we take
still creaks from the wake
of amateur lovers,
losing their footing
while looting leading roles
they could never uphold,
before ever learning how
to support you.

They reel from being real,
never able to assure you
of something more authentic
than rehearsed apologies
and screenplay breakups.
So you wake up,
to academy award
winning performances,
after lackluster nights
as memorable
as meteor showers in daylight,
“best picture” mornings
with a nominee
we both know,
doesn’t deserve to share
a moment in your limelight.

So I choose
to earn your attention
with chivalry,
your affection with a
“you break it you buy it”
kind of honesty
because I’d rather be yours,
after all the lies
we tell ourselves like:
“He wasn’t always like this,”
“He’ll change,

But I’ll wait,
’til you’re tired of settling
for settlers
with stuttering excuses
for being less than a man,
from every occasion
to stand up for you
as if he were allergic.

The larceny
of your love,
the heist
of artificial highs
and the stolen emotions
you were never meant to
“fall” for
need not be a sequel
to your future.

May you find
a man that needs no mask
to obscure his intentions,
a man who’s
honesty isn’t stapled to fibs,
an audacity to be mendacious,
a man
who knows where his place is,
not above but beside,
conjoined at the ribs
to inspire,
aspire to be
more faithful than his options,
a man
who’s never been fond of
stealing your heart,
but rather
engage it in its chase
for a love of a lifetime,
a man
willing to finish last
if it means putting you first. 


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