making damn sure

there were always times i thought about writing more spoken word, open words, for an open stage- just remembering the weight of a microphone in my hands and the weakness in my kneecaps while i stood in front of an audience and spoke fiction masked by facts but the truth of the matter has been clear for ten years, that my keyboard spelled out lies whenever inspiration ran dry- propelled by an uneasy fear of loss, translated with no rhyme or cadence- and now i owe apologies to the boys i've loved for having wasted their years and mine with these long-term leases renewed by aimless disregard for time because it seemed easier to settle and i was always committed to the grind, to the vague satisfaction of what was functionally good or indifferently long and maybe all the writers through all of history got their stories all wrong- what if romance was a mirage (just a synonym for dysfunction) and what if love was designed to meet loneliness at each junction and what if the best of relationships functioned like reliable employment- so i showed up every day and waited for the check; but it never came and they always left and the language of my cover letter became increasingly bereft and there were nights i sat across from strangers exchanging rote pleasantries like alms but then i'd drive home right after and add 10 more milligrams to my palms and now i've been thinking but it hurts me thinking that those nights that i spent drinking, that they never got us anywhere with all those wasted times you drove me home and all that wasted time i told you no but now we are finally here and it is always getting clearer that there was no one else before you and there will be no one after because i've been in dress rehearsals for a decade with understudy actors and i think we're getting deep now, shit i'm talking might be too true but i know that i have been waiting my whole life for you, for this fire in my chest and the certainty in my step and the sincerity of your text and the milestones we have left and i know that i would do it all again just to know i got it right, that i would reread every chapter because you make me want to write.