If It Is

Kicking rocks to the curb with withering shoes.

Traffic conspires when time’s there to lose.

Two keys of one shape; it’s always the second.

Three lights in the room eclipsed by depression.

The mattress consumes any shape I’m taking.

The bookshelf taunts with ideas of awaking.

As if a good story could free me from me.

Like a deep resolution could make me believe.

I’ve never been one for hopeless romantic.

No ebullient author who risks to advance it.

Err on the side of safe to be sorry.

In the wars I declare, isolation’s the army.

The battles leave smoke and the cold taste of iron.

So I take out a journal to kindle the fire.

How the paper and flame fan a futile obsession.

A Catholic conflicted records a confession.

I study the syntax and diction by day.

And wait for permission to put them in play.

Wish I could leap and burn when I crash.

Be an artist who paints with the ember and ash.

That’s never been what I am.

I’m a mathematician, doing love calculations.

A surgeon assigned to a blind operation.

Detective with gloves, dusting clues of relations.

All to find out who I am in the end.

A lover or brother, a man or a friend?

If it’s the fourth, then I’ll take it,

For it keeps me around.

So we can sit once again with the leaves where I found

That to be by your side means there’s no other place.

As your lips curl the moon and it shows me your face.

If the third, then I’ll fake it,

Cause I’ll hold your respect.

Allows me to float when I’m holding my breath.

Delicate weights pull down in my pockets.

And masculine lies rise to surface for profits.

If the second, I’ll make it,

Cause it means I’m entrusted.

But the breath you let out makes the love become lusted.

And it drifts as I say I’ll be there for you, sister.

Just to hold you as wind gusts deliver the whisper.

If it’s the first, then I’ll break it,

And it’s the last that I’ll be.

When you learn who I am you will get yourself free.

And run from the darkness and fear that I lay.

An angel too pure to get close to my pain.

In the end I choose what I am.

A mathematician doing love calculations.

A surgeon assigned to a blind operation.

A detective with gloves, dusting clues of relations.

All to find out who I am in the end.

What if it is?

Only to find who I am in the end.