A Poem About A Recent Downfall

Yet I Still Chase

Words that cut like daggers,
spoken true from out your lips.
Innocent concessions chipping away
at the foundation of sanity.
Creating trepidation over every word
causing doubt to grow as flowers.
A garden planted to propitiate
and mask the true desire to burn it down.
A list of platitudes regurgitated fortnightly,
each one recanted by the setting sun.

Yet I still chase.

Touch that burns like fire,
given thoughtless and in haste.
Grabbing at affection as scraps of validation.
A desperate actor seeking worth
in the fervent applause of any
that would sit and watch them perform.
Take a bow and close the curtain.
Brava, bellissimo to such a wondrous show.
This empty bed a now cold barren stage
with an audience waiting for the ghost light.

Yet I still chase.