Diamonds and Spades

       A season far before, but still feeling ever-present to me, is this looming, indiscernible figure who once held you so dear.
Another who chased you, craved you, and brought you joy; it’s his shadow I can’t outrun, even under a cloudless sky.
Even in the presence of your devoted eyes and calming smile reserved just for me, I still need your fervid reassurances.
In times apart, I futilely attempt to process these needless thoughts and conceived stories I create to self-inflict pain.
Try as I might, I can’t free myself from my self-imposed prison, destined I feel to serve out this life sentence.
 
Trapped without a move to make or a word to fake, I ruminate scenarios that shouldn’t concern me.
Staring purposelessly at the ground as imagined visions cloud my mind, unable to chase away these intrusive thoughts.
Unrightfully punishing myself because I don’t have any ability to harness this irrational, unjustified jealousy.
There’s an inability to escape the idea that I can’t measure up, that I’ll never be enough, that you’ll be settling for less.
I’ve already ruined this for both of us because of my self-fulfilling prophecies of not measuring up.
 
Ill-prepared to deal with another setback, I’m filled with so much distress that it’s something I won’t be able to fight.
Though I like you a lot, this will be nothing more than a distant infatuation; I can’t allow another to leave me so desperate.
Though I like you a lot, there will be no pursuit; I can’t let you leave me so despondent. 
Though I like you a lot, I’m just not sure I’ll be able to dig myself out when this happens again.
Though I like you a lot, I can’t.
I just can’t.
 
When safety strikes a set of different fears in me, I can’t help but wonder how much longer I can last.
Casually, I asked questions that I perceived I knew the answers to; never was I prepared for your authentic replies. 
Curiously, I rummaged through your past, foolishly believing it would free me, only to discover the opposite to be true.
I dug up the dead yet expected those ghosts to remain powerless in their ability to haunt my soul or expose my heart.
Unable to keep my feelings confined in any discernible, finite box, I instead disengaged and prepared for the worst.
 
Lackadaisically, I allowed myself to be vulnerable, despite promises that I would never let this occur again.
While no permission is required to deny unwanted thoughts, I could and should have done better to avoid the possibility.
Alone, insecure, and unwilling to leaf through my book of coping mechanisms, I quickly sink into this all too familiar wormhole.
Undesirable memories flood in, leaving me defenseless to fight these crashing waves shattering me from all directions. 
When I dwell with those I allow to penetrate acutely, I feel guilty for pleading to be saved again. 
 
Ill-prepared to deal with another setback, I’m filled with so much distress that it’s something I won’t be able to fight.
Though I like you a lot, this will be nothing more than a distant infatuation; I can’t allow another to leave me so desperate.
Though I like you a lot, there will be no pursuit; I can’t let you leave me so despondent. 
Though I like you a lot, I’m just not sure I’ll be able to dig myself out when this happens again.
Though I like you a lot, I can’t.
I just can’t.

Punishing yourself in the most painful ways because you don’t have it in you to deal with another derailment.

Written in 2020

Copyright, The Poetry of Bryan Buser