NEVER BETTER, BETTER NEVER by Clarisa Gonzales
Contemplation is the core of my existence.
I find, quite often, that my thoughts are at the peak of honesty when my eyes are half-closed,
when my speech is mostly indistinguishable,
letting feelings, wants, and needs melt together,
leading into dreams that form conclusions so perfect,
so attainable,
that I can’t even remember them when I wake.
At times, I’ve taken advantage of the one thing that grounds me.
I’ve worn my words like armor,
wrapping my body in nouns and verbs,
letting them fight my battles,
waiting for a situation when passion alone would be enough,
but never giving it the opportunity to breach the defense.
I’ve never been better at not knowing what’s best.
I see the beauty in the unconventional,
the structure of the nose,
the curve of the lips,
the phantom caress of a lovely cheekbone.
but I find comfort in the familiar,
in essence, the first thing I ever loved,
lost,
and let go enough to be unsure of how to get it back,
or how to let it come back,
without unease.
I’ve counted my losses,
accepted the repercussions of the actions of others,
and ended up with the decision that should not ever have been placed before me.
If the choice is mine, I’d be better never to make it.
//ww
I find, quite often, that my thoughts are at the peak of honesty when my eyes are half-closed,
when my speech is mostly indistinguishable,
letting feelings, wants, and needs melt together,
leading into dreams that form conclusions so perfect,
so attainable,
that I can’t even remember them when I wake.
At times, I’ve taken advantage of the one thing that grounds me.
I’ve worn my words like armor,
wrapping my body in nouns and verbs,
letting them fight my battles,
waiting for a situation when passion alone would be enough,
but never giving it the opportunity to breach the defense.
I’ve never been better at not knowing what’s best.
I see the beauty in the unconventional,
the structure of the nose,
the curve of the lips,
the phantom caress of a lovely cheekbone.
but I find comfort in the familiar,
in essence, the first thing I ever loved,
lost,
and let go enough to be unsure of how to get it back,
or how to let it come back,
without unease.
I’ve counted my losses,
accepted the repercussions of the actions of others,
and ended up with the decision that should not ever have been placed before me.
If the choice is mine, I’d be better never to make it.
//ww