Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Oxymoron














Feels quite easy to sit back now,
     And warm up to neglect.
For every thing seems bright and strong,
     In my concocted retrospect.

A brand new fictional paper back,
     And some conceited dark coffee
There sits my beloved black canine,
     My Habit, uncommitted and free.

I vividly remember all those days
    Or wait, it's not a memory
Maybe it's what my Habit dropped
    In that intoxicating liquid bean.

For I feel no pain, no dread, no love
    Where I feared I'd die the most
Now all I squint to see is a blur
    Of a past tucked in and closed.

I turn sideways and take a moment
    To look at my beloved ally.
How trim and proper, with a glint of copper
   Is her fur and the sun in her eye.

I have liked a few things, loved another
    Cherished all for some time
But found me Habit mumble close
    "it is not yours, but mine"

We fondle the new thing, which's me Habit's
     We quickly grow so fond
It seems unlikely, almost absurd
      For ever to sever the bond!

So every day, like a daily chore
     There's a time well spent with them
That, them we feel so used to now
      That on them that our smiles depend.

Guilt or Blame, one way or another,
     Things sadly fall apart
I find me Habit, on the ledge
     Nursing a broken heart.

Is it normal for Habits, have you ever seen;
    Them bitches to change their mind.
After three indoors, give or take
    We're out of 'cold-turkey' confine.

Or tis okay for Habits, paradoxically
    To have a heart of caprice
To love something like no tomorrow
    To move on, if either leaves?

In the end I know, I'll smile to myself
    As I sip the dark coffee
That me Habit could have, may have done 'em wrong
    But it has surely protected me.