4/18/2019

Thought I'd take a stab at poetry before I turn 22.

4/18/2019

You are my friend,

who rules as a queen should—

justly

You who provides strict rules you decree for others

and hold up for yourself.

This providence builds your kingdom.

A friendship with you is a sought-after association with royalty.

Even though we don't see eye to eye,

I still believe in foresight,

though I creep in the shadows,

I remain within,

searching for a clearing.

You are familiar with me

though only within shades of grey,

blurred between roses and those castle walls.

I am your fuzzy friend,

whom you love as your favorite feline,

but whom you come to despise for my faculty of freedom

to abide or to turn away,

conscientious or unconscious,

fated or destined

I am your subject

whom you subject to expectations.

You are my subject,

to whom I hold as a subject of fascination.

We are our subject,

who we are about, acting on other objects.

They are our subjects,

thrown under your citadel

To be your friend, I slip out of the dark

into your light

Chasing you but chasing my tail,

Trying to escape this hermeneutic circle

You are my friend, but always are the monarch,

always hiding between your majestic law

But always residing in its fixed architecture.

I hope to one day unearth my structural foundations,

so firmly grounded in soil so impotent,

and be a friend beyond those measured with a grain of salt

whose friendship is the exception that affirms the rule in plenitude.