Yardsticks
Thy yardstick, long and wide, and once I saw it I knew I could not measure. I took thy shoes and stuck my legs in, and they slid into a sea of nothingness. Yet I gave up not. I chased after thee, my own tail. I played your game and laughed at your words, till they lost their taste. I was in love with thy virgin self, dripping with innocence and naivety, and I was of the crave, to pierce all corners none had ever seen, to be the first to conquer lands yet known. I laughed at your mistakes till they became a bane. I loved your curves, but sadly every passing day they became creases, and time was catching up with you. So I was in love with flesh, but with time they became bones, and my patience ebbed out till it was no more, and I was of the question whether to have and hold or to have and let loose. It took too little a time for your words to become empty sayings. I had seen every corner and touched every curve, and sadly you no longer were sweet of taste. You became a regular meal at a regular diner, and my love was lost for you waned further, and it was no more. Thy yardstick was downsizing, falling fast onto the ground. So there you were, willingly taking in every mistake and action, like a fish takes in bait. When I gave you my refuse, you swallowed it all. When I called you names, you answered by them, and happy I was, a fool, a blemish. Who was I to deserve thy love? Who was I to deserve the stale kisses I endured every morning right when I woke? So from love to despise, who knew the journey would be that short? From bliss to revulsion, who knew the race would end before it even got to start? With me forever was short, and I knew it when I got home to a dark house, empty, cold and stale. Ah, she shall be back, you shall return to thy master and buy back your spot, after all, wasn’t it me who conquered you? Wasn’t I the one who gave you life? I waited for coffee, but it never made itself. I waited for clean laundry, but it never came home. So a few letters with trembling hands, and they ended up in your trash basket. A few tears outside your house, but you turned on the rain. Alone you left me, to contemplate the void you left that none but you could fill, but said you would not. A hole you left behind that no amount of remission could cover, but you said you would cover it no more. You said to me, that there was place no more in the darkness, and you belonged not to he who measure up not, and I started giving up, I started caving in. So I looked around when the gun went off, in shock and alarm. Who the assailant be? I saw the gun in my hands, and I tumbled to the ground, my mouth open in disbelief. And so when I was going down I saw the yardstick, the picture of what I would never become, against the shame I had become.
Thy yardstick, long and wide, and once I saw it I knew I could not measure. I took thy shoes and stuck my legs in, and they slid into a sea of nothingness. Yet I gave up not. I chased after thee, my own tail. I played your game and laughed at your words, till they lost their taste. I was in love with thy virgin self, dripping with innocence and naivety, and I was of the crave, to pierce all corners none had ever seen, to be the first to conquer lands yet known. I laughed at your mistakes till they became a bane. I loved your curves, but sadly every passing day they became creases, and time was catching up with you. So I was in love with flesh, but with time they became bones, and my patience ebbed out till it was no more, and I was of the question whether to have and hold or to have and let loose. It took too little a time for your words to become empty sayings. I had seen every corner and touched every curve, and sadly you no longer were sweet of taste. You became a regular meal at a regular diner, and my love was lost for you waned further, and it was no more. Thy yardstick was downsizing, falling fast onto the ground. So there you were, willingly taking in every mistake and action, like a fish takes in bait. When I gave you my refuse, you swallowed it all. When I called you names, you answered by them, and happy I was, a fool, a blemish. Who was I to deserve thy love? Who was I to deserve the stale kisses I endured every morning right when I woke? So from love to despise, who knew the journey would be that short? From bliss to revulsion, who knew the race would end before it even got to start? With me forever was short, and I knew it when I got home to a dark house, empty, cold and stale. Ah, she shall be back, you shall return to thy master and buy back your spot, after all, wasn’t it me who conquered you? Wasn’t I the one who gave you life? I waited for coffee, but it never made itself. I waited for clean laundry, but it never came home. So a few letters with trembling hands, and they ended up in your trash basket. A few tears outside your house, but you turned on the rain. Alone you left me, to contemplate the void you left that none but you could fill, but said you would not. A hole you left behind that no amount of remission could cover, but you said you would cover it no more. You said to me, that there was place no more in the darkness, and you belonged not to he who measure up not, and I started giving up, I started caving in. So I looked around when the gun went off, in shock and alarm. Who the assailant be? I saw the gun in my hands, and I tumbled to the ground, my mouth open in disbelief. And so when I was going down I saw the yardstick, the picture of what I would never become, against the shame I had become.
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