Perfect Storm Poem by Leah Ayliffe

It was a Sunday morning.
Still in bed, coming down from the night before.
Laying next to your ex girlfriend. A girl the star's sent to me.
Sunday morning, it was anything but a day of rest.
You wrote me to meet for coffee.
It had been too many months since I saw your face, heard your voice.
Van Gogh witnessed the scene I had been waiting for since I've been in a bad way, since you forced a life without you onto me.
The coffee was hot, the water cold.
Our words exchanged like nothing had come to pass over the mangled messy year when we steered into the perfect storm.
I felt nothing.
Then you went and did what I remember you being good at.
You went and said all the right things.
All the sins and cruel ways of your recent past was suddenly absolved in my heart. Not in my mind, but I felt my heavy heart grow light where I didn't realize just how far in the dark it was.
A strange new perspective where the painting is exposed to light and all that was dark and desolate is explained.
Rewriting what has been to make it appear as a tragic work of misunderstood art.
You always had a way of melting the very doubt and fear you ignited in me.
Days go on, as does life, a little fact you choose to ignore in others.
I tell you it won't be easy, the road looks long and it's far from smooth.
I tell you my fears that may never escape my thoughts, how you tend to change your tune often and I see you walking out the door as fast as you came back through.
I'll be damned if you make me look like a fool for letting you back into my world.
Sure, it wasn't such a happy place since you've been away, but it was more real and better than a pretty lie, the lie that youd always be here.
I'm better than that.
I'm better than sitting here waiting for you to make the time to prove that you're still that guy.
I don't understand the addictive quality you embody that pulls me to try and work so hard for you to be comfortable, while I'm sleeping on a concrete floor. You don't even notice the lengths in which the people who love you will go. Open your eyes before they all become the ones who leave.
I want to believe in the song you're playing, but my ears know how you figured out my favourite chords long ago to lull me into a state of safety.
My ears recognize the sound when they listen to the vibrations of what someone else thinks they want to hear.
Your song sounds something like this.
I can't deny the red flags that are waving across my mind, so early in the new game where you've come back to tell me you've really changed.
I'm the star of a cosmic comedy.
The signs are telling me it's all gonna be alright, to float down the river and enjoy the noise of the jungle that no longer touches me.
I'm floating. Like I found that pause button I so desired. I'm ready to play again.
I know the sound of your guitar, I know the switch between your mentalities like genres of music.
Pick your melody my friend, and stick with it.
Don't you dare try to switch your tune with me again, because then, you really will have found the perfect storm in me.