a dog
cannot befriend a deer.
it doesn't matter what kind of dog;
what breed,
what disposition
it could be the friendliest dog you've ever met
perhaps a long and fluffy coat
perhaps a persistently wagging tail
and yet when a deer
sees a dog
it immediately recognizes its capacity
for hurt;
for danger.
it will avoid it
without hesitation.
i wish i was more like a deer, in that way.
i wish
that i could see something so sweet
and so innocent
and realize that everything, no matter how pure
or how gentle a face
can
and will be
tainted at some point.
"impure" does not always mean something bad;
we are all used in some manner
taken out of our factory shipping package
no longer safely encased in packing peanuts
your best friend is probably no longer a blank slate
there are lines on their face and callouses on their hands
the universe has made them into a canvas
and stretched their skin further and further
until it is enough to begin to carve into.
"used" does not mean "broken,"
yet.
there is always hope.
no matter how many times you strip and
restretch and
repaint your own canvas
there is always another chance.
this is merely a friendly word of advice.
YOU ARE READING
the archives - a poetry portfolio
PoetryA light buzzing distracts you from whatever you're doing. There is an old, weathered monitor on a table next to you. You could have sworn that it had just *appeared* out of thin air. Out of curiosity, you stare at it for a moment. The screen flicke...
