To Guess the End

The Rest

Kindness is not enough

I challenge myself to find why

No justifiable words can tell him


Perfection does not exist

But a space for ideals is a part of me

So I punish the present with judgement


Compromise is possible

Yet I will wall up the place for it

unable to reason it's working in reality


I take the best of today

Knowing that I hold

the anguish of tomorrow in my intentions


What right have I got to his care

When it circles my selfish centre

Supporting what it can never truely touch


I think I've guessed the end of this story,

but I don't want to reach the final page.


My pages to turn,

but I can't act upon a feeling, when the scene in which I sit is still being written.


I cannot pre-empt a scenario which will leave us both in such pain

May the plot twist so that I can believe in what he feels and know that feeling.

That is the only ending I cannot foretell.

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