Home to None but Me

I don’t doubt I’ll remember all this,
That while it’s undocked, it is far from a sailed ship,
But I sometimes wish I could keep my dreams to times I spend asleep,
You represent a reverie I don’t feel worthy of in reality,
And it is probably why by some sadistic twist I am always losing out to some other guy.

But the realist in me sees that there is potential reprieve to be found in having my string around your hip,
There is perspective to be seen in being keen to keep unparted lips,
And I can tell that hell is not where I fell when we couldn’t be,
It is but a construct of those that no longer believe in the sour turning sweet.
Even so, the realist can be trumped by the feelings his objectivity aims to cull.

I wonder what seeing into the future would yield,
Or being able to change the past, for sure, as I feel I need,
It is so intriguing yet unsettling to know you have a good thing going, but only see your idea of what’s missing,
The struggle with this muddled sense of hope-cum-entitlement (after a while) is truly captivating and consuming,
I am undoubtedly suffocated by its grip and incapacitated by its hit,
The aftermath being this; a lingering sense of defeat, injured spirit and racing heartbeat

Someday hey,
I may be yours in perpetuity,

Evans Mbora Campbell.
Home to None but Me.

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