My friend, we grit chivalry, still tethered to the spot
Where foundations built of memories crack as they grow apart.
Not willing to let go of what has crumbled and decayed;
Too wistful for the careless whirl of nights staved into day.

Profusely mined of goodwill, but continuing to reach out
With helping hands, now granulated, to a latex covered heart.
A host that spreads misery to his apathetic guest;
Building bridges to cross islands, when quarantine called for separate tents.

The only thing we agree on: pretending, while scouting indolent terrain;
Because composure changes nothing if pride is getting in the way.
As gestures go unnoticed gnashing teeth arrange dead smiles;
Each failed remedy brews tension, heating blood into a boil.

Two clowns that once laughed, now stare back, afraid to strike.
We may not kill each other, but we’re ready for a fight.
History too ancient to forget unless we carve it out with knives;
And I’m tired of wounds that beget wounds, full of plague, and sick of time.

Cody Hulbert Copyright, 2015


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