Before Sunday morn
I was happy and glowing.
Before your call came
I was blissed and unknowing.
I knew of desires
and I knew your needs.
I’d suggested a plan
and hoped we’d succeed.
I shifted my limits
which were not ephemera.
I morphed into something
to solve your dilemma.
I thought myself kind
and loving and honest.
And then your call came
which left me demolished.
The question you asked
and the way that you asked it.
The sound of your voice
was like love mixed with acid.
Confession was sin
uncommitted yet tempted.
You revealed from within;
forewarned and repented.
You gave me the truth
that you thought to embargo,
As you braved rejection;
my wrath and my sorrow.
You asked me a question;
you begged satisfaction.
You pleaded to know
the truth through an action.
You needed to know
and said I’d defy you.
But even heartbroken
I could not deny you.
And now we are different;
yes, we’re not the same.
And now I have questions
that are hard to explain.
I’ve tried to express them;
to confirm my convictions.
But the riddles of love
imply contradictions.
I know that I’m right
but does that make you wrong?
Does confessing a weakness
in fact make you strong?
Can I be proud
of acts so unsavory?
Can cowardly acts
be inspired by bravery?
Can I be sympathetic
to how you depict him?
And if I’m aroused
can I still be a victim?
Can I be betrayed
if I’m kept in the light?
Can it truly be wrong
if I’m mostly alright?
Can I crave blue deception
while wanting the truth?
Can you find liberation
denied in your youth?
Will freedom enslave you
and kill us like cancer?
We have lots of questions
without many answers.
Written by Jason Wright
June 29, 2017