Meant To Be in Poetry is the Window to the Soul...

And sometimes the inspiration comes from setting the record straight, when trying to quietly be the better person seems to only entitle the madness and encourage the veritable thievery of the legitimately bereaved..

“Meant To Be”

You speak of me sinister
These vile acts
These wicked deeds
Shattering worlds
Your “childlike innocence”
Your “desperate pleas”
That once
Once, I was a good man
No longer, you see
I am a liar
A forced desire
Not worth a thing
Yet somehow
I lured you?
Is that right?
I guess that is the story
You choose, no,
You need to believe
Oh, he can be so wildly
Seducing!
At the same time
Insidious!

The worst!

“I must.. I must.. I will make them see.”

And here I am left silent
Quiet
Thinking
How can you speak
When all you state
Chokes truth
Wounds the whole
And breeds spinning
How can you live
With hollow points fired
At someone you claimed
Was worth knowing
Even if in the end
He, you did not keep

You would never keep

I know not sewing
The action to hem
And to bind seams
I lived my life with
The most skilled
At alterations
Than you could ever hope to see
And it seems even now
You want desperately
So desperately
To compete

Spinning
So sickening
You needle me
Stitches
You sew my prison
With poison silk
Fibers of deceit
You propagate
You devastate
And somehow
Somehow
You believe

Though I wonder
Do you really?
Believe?
All the lies
You fantasize
The fantastical fiction
Alive, take mind,
Only in diction
Bound within
The confines
Of an addled mind
Wrapped up tight
Cursive font
Jagged seams
With a thick spiral spine
Home in a tome
The sort of truth
Robert Ripley himself
Would not bother a read

I am not your ocean
You are not my breeze
The stars are my anchor
The moonlight my hope
My devotion
My belief

There will be other storms
Other distractions
Weather for you to ride out
And criticize
And dramatize
With your patent absurdity
These winds are of renewal
Not a rebirth of the tragedy
That was my ever crossing paths
With the unnatural disaster
You have chosen to be

I choose my skies royal blue
Pillow soft, shapeless clouds
Replete with possibility
Framing an uncharted horizon
With an angel as my levee
And my heartbeat –
The mighty Mississippi
Courting the Crescent City

I am
Exactly
Where I am
Meant to be

Brian Milici
April 7, 2017

I guess it has been a while. You crazy kids. Getting all old and decrepit on me. Hopefully you aren’t all letting life steal away your youthful vigor. There’s so much left to do, left to see! :)

May you always find your smile.