In Poor Taste
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This one I wrote putting myself in the shoes of someone else very close to me. It's fun to do that once and a while, I've gotten some really good lines/stanzas out of it. This whole poem originated from the line "it's not attractive to not listen" which is something I noticed that some people do consistently. Then I just built the rest of the poem around that line, knowing I would repeat it more than once. The word "attractive" here does not necessarily mean what it usually means, but more that people subconsiously idealize and glamorize not listening. It's a statement on thinking a character flaw is actually a harmless quirk.
It's so hard for me to say this to you
I wanted things to be different but they're not
And my passive aggressive opinions must be like cocaine to you
I can only have you thinking of me exactly the way I need you to
But I loved you more than myself
And I put all your needs in front of mine
While you found a trauma response to hide behind
A puppet to the master,
Acres of control, I’ve never seen diverge faster
And I've harbored innocent laughter into a competition for your suggestive glances
I can force a different function of my brain if needed
It's mostly a computer anyways
And every bit of data is a puzzle piece of trying to solve your created language
You're skating on thin ice
And you're not that good a skater
And I've studied your created language my whole life;
A way to be your aphrodisiac and your translator
But how am I expected to express this
Without my own, definitely biased interpretation?
It's not attractive to not listen
And we'll watch it all unfold
Like the paper of this contract
I'm only holding your hand
So you couldn't sign your life away
This isn't forgiveness,
This is barely an act of kindness
I'm only manifesting your peace
so mine can feel appeased
And you keep defaulting to the victim with such ease
Its every meaning of exhausting
And the evidence stacked against your paranormal delusions
Is nothing short of haunting
You flash the shine of a shimmer of hope against my skin,
So f-ing unrelenting
But it's not the fear of an end that's keeping me pinned
it's the fear of never finding it
that won't let me begin
I found you writhing in your own solitude
With a shapeshifting story of petals falling at a rate of “he loves me not”
Writhing in your own relapse of solitude
Why do you think the dead get more flowers than the living?
Cause regret is so much stronger than gratitude
And I always tell myself the phrase
you brought with you to the wake:
To burn one of them at the stake,
Would be to burn the whole city
And I won't be the one holding the torch
When they're crucifying for mistakes
They'll take your ears and pierce them first
It's not attractive to not listen
Copyright © Matthew Bailey | Year Posted 2023
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