"Distant Ties"

"Distant Ties"

Not looking for it close up.
Not missing it from far sight.
You hope that thoughts approach us.
I know that want. It's not right.

Years blown.
You would drive me crazy.
Said I was your baby.
I'm no longer your child.
Maybe
whatever is worth saving
of us might delay the
sting of when emotions ran wild.

Months gone.
Didn't need your saving.
I needed to save me
or I'd run low on time.
Staving
you off was a labor
that did me no favors.
You acknowledge no line.

Even so far away
I find it hard to say
what you hope I mean
so things seem better for you.
A taxing chore to
skirt around your emotions
while your intent was in motion
to have my ambition subdued.

You were crude and unrefined
with a broken filter.
Concealer amid the masses
until flinging trash served you.
Heard you.
They all did
and they all hid until
your fire and fury was quelled.

That just never served me well.

So you would bark and blow.
I would tell you no
then you'd threaten to go
and make it appear as though
I was so heartless of a son
that I'd kick you out.
A scream and shout
for whomever cared to listen.

"Girl, that's a shame."
"What happened to your children."

You hoped to justify me as your villain.

For what is worth revealing,
there is nothing appealing
about one who mongers rumors
for the humor of the inquisitive.
You plotted on division
long before you heard "I Do"
because you knew
right where your bed was made.
Would tell me
"Things were said"
when anger and convenience
sought to converge on some concept
you were sure was born of genius
means of malice and manipulation.

Bearing me for nine months
is not a charge for service rendered
that you can demand interest on.
Love is not a savings bond
that you can cash out for currency
concurrently
then purpose me
just to cover your debt.

I'm not finished yet.

Over time,
you've run over mine
so I'm over time
that just might run out.

Blame what you chose to hear;
not what was said.
You can close your ears
and even turn your head from the wall
but the ink is bare
because blood is there
and every tear you spare
will never wash it out.
The bile you'd spew
has poisoned you.
No fortune to
one wishing to ruin another.

This is not tradition.
Don't talk. Just listen.
It's not about your vision.
This is about my life.
You still have a place there
but you sought to displace care
so you'd risk falling from grace where
you could just blame it on my wife.

Just you or nothing
as if just you was something
to sustain what I deserved.
Be a man without the nerve
or the balls
or the spine
to leave behind a construct much maligned
you would dress as structure to the blind
that knew nothing beyond those blinds.
That house was no home
so I left it behind.
It was time to go

so no.

Not looking for it close up.
Not missing it from far sight.
That dream died,
was sold
and closed up.
A broken image of the battle
that I never wanted to fight.

Months gone
and I get the texts
or the phone calls.
You don't mean to vex.
You don't aim to disturb.
You don't want to work on my nerves.
You just love me
and miss me.
and think about me
every day. 

....................what do you want me to say?

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

"Y'all Talk?"

"Y'all Talk?"

She is the secret
that I only share
with our lonesome air 
to impart temporary comfort.
The grand performance
that I'd never dare pair
with a theater fully seating
a completely attentive audience.

She is that audible sound
that I make
when something tastes
far better
than I thought it would.
Too good to keep the recipe
anywhere
other than one's memory, though.

If pleasure truly is guilty,
then our iniquities in sight
would draw me furthest from the light.
Nightly practice of positions
preferred wholly over sleep,
she is that corner of the room
where darkness tends to loom
and glow is too afraid to creep toward.
She easily makes it hard.

She is delight in difficulty.
The rash decision resulting
in unavoidable trials
with all the guile and testimony
that may never ring in ears.
The peculiar fit of enchantment
with that entranced state of fear
and I really don't mind her tears.

I'm here
and shouldn't be.
Right mind
and wouldn't be.
Like mine
no good for me.
Like mind
but good to me.
No one watching.
Timer done clocking.
Headboard still rocking.....
.....drawing more secrets to my mouth.
I drew those secrets with my mouth.
There might be days we scream and holler
but this secret won't leave my mouth
and I
really want to shout
but then,
what could I lie about?

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

"Hiding In The Dark"

"Hiding In The Dark"

You.
You used to look so good
that I could make an easy effort
out of sizing up your shape
from clear across the room
in the dark.
We used to start
so close
that we shared the sighs between us.
Limited to no vision
in the peripheral sense
but it didn't matter
because all I cared
to see
was directly in front of me.

You still are
to some degree
but.................
with the growing darkness
between,
even your attempts at
transparency
have seen
and forseen
that your luster would wear thin
eventually
and resemble more facade
or fallacy
than what you might have hoped
would be revealed.

Perhaps you aren't without appeal.
Not completely
yet
but one would bet the vault
and all the contents therein
that your practiced intent
cannot contend
with a fault that knows no end.

You're beautiful.
Bright.
Buxom.
Shapely.
The standard bearing image
of what one would say is a lady

and I can't stand the sight of you.

The plight of you
now fuels my indifference.
So right of you
to enlist some distance
as if it restores the shards
of your self-assumed dignity.
A poor man's version
you thought to hide
behind a veil of pride
as frail as the lies
you tell
and live openly.

You took the time
and had the nerve
to open me
and pour in.
I was your next win
and
you were the one sin
that I would ever think to call
my favorite
and if engaged in honesty,
I'll likely savor it
years after we stop speaking.

Even now in this room:
Pitch black.
Darkness peaking.
Temptation peeking in.....
we used to grin
when our sins
would take the middle of the floor;
inviting us to explore.
Daring us to implore
that another score or so
wouldn't hurt if we let go
soon enough
and neither of us
are good enough at that
although time has lent us
the opportunity to improve.

I used to sit here
with you
and reminisce
surrounded by what little
we could see
and we would let our thoughts
be.
We
would find excuses
akin to scribes seeking out muses
for the decisions that would ensue
in our shared solitude.
A mood once imbued
with a heightened enchantment
we were so willfully entranced with
can only offer consternation now.
I used to wait for the day
when we'd find the words to say
that would allow this to continue.
Would take time off,
miss you,
befriend you
again
but then,
this dark room became apparent:

Apparently,
I haven’t seen
enough of you.
Enough from you.
Enough for you
to be worth the act.
No direction.
No plan intact.
Just you until black
took that away.
Once cursed the night
but hid from day.
The light wouldn't dare comfort me
with you here in my company
so here
in black
I'm one with me
but there will be no slumbering
until in the dark
you run from me
and are done with me
but if you choose to remain
for your portion of pain,
you can gather your own stains.

Just don't touch me.

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz