carpe diem

don't tread on me

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persistently, you tear the veil,
but not from your eyes, no,
tear it like the rug from beneath me,
who can't breathe.
you tear it not to see, but just to tear,
to feel the strain of the thread as you tread on and constantly shift all the seams,
it's not as bad as it seems
like the welcome mat that greets you every time you leave, a friendly hello and goodbye as you lie on your back on the grass, and you stare at the sky just to see what it means.
you don't hunger for wisdom, you settle for stars.
how could I ever love a man who can't see past what he already knows?
and although you smile and guide me through life by my side where I've always intended for you to be,
god knows and it shows that arrogant is all you'll ever be.
picking fights, never picking flowers.
cutting trees, never stopping to breathe,
as you were the rug that you tore from beneath me,
and maybe I didn't tread lightly enough.

- ch

hope this is properly articulated. had no interest in "coming back strong", only in putting out something simple and something I can be proud of. regardless, you must come back before you can come back strong; I am back. hopefully I will be more prolific in my writing.