I've sat looking across the table, at a woman.
So empty within that I had to think to myself,
If I dare share a night with you,
Will I risk losing more of my dignity than the empty orgasm’s release of a forgettable moment’s overrated encounter?
I'm not saying I'm better,
I am simply trying to say I am not the one.
I stay to myself for the simple reason,
I have no desire to share something that won't be heard to begin with.
Some people believe I am cold.
It takes far more strength to be honest and being true to one's self,
Than to sell my truths for a shared misery's prison cell.
The bird alone in the cage needs only a mirror,
As I speak to myself because I want depth.
And, my darling,
I would break my neck from a deep dive within the confines of your soul’s plastic pool.
My venom’s real as my approach,
Smooth as sandpaper and honest as death.
There is no grey area in dealing with the likes of me.
I would say goodbye,
But that would give the delusion of concern.
John Patrick Robbins, is the editor in chief of the Rye Whiskey Review and Black Shamrock Magazine.
His work has been published at Fixator Press, Horror Sleaze Trash, Fearless Poetry Zine, The Dope Fiend Daily, Punk Noir Magazine, Lothlorien Journal Of Poetry, Piker Press and The San Pedro River Review.
He is also the co-author of the Mirror Masks Nothing along with Kevin M. Hibshman from Whiskey City Press.
Available on Amazon.
His work is always unfiltered.
