I know your name and the color of your hair,

I understand these traits and what you typically wear,

and I can get you as a person and know you in and out

but then you can surprise us all when your true colors shout and thrive

the mystery of this disguise eludes my eyes, I think I know you but a different person lies

and contrives and the truth all dies and this disguise continues to convince us all otherwise.

 

You are seemingly you, that person we knew, there is no other being,

no double personality feeling, no indication that your honesty breaks at the keeling

and the frayed edges of your questionable soul are peeling. So who are you?

There is this person I see, her touch sets me free, her smell tickles the sensations

but it draws both me and some…random he.

Can it be? There’s nothing wrong with this that you can see?

It makes me have to question who you really are and how you plan a demise from afar

and never better will be this scar as I touch it to remember my arduous struggle through

love’s tar and mire as I tire of the fight for an answer through painful love and loss banter.

 

I know your eye color and your loving Father and Mother, and your idiosyncrasies like no other.

I understand these traits and what you typically wear, and I understand you as a human being

and your wishes and desires and of the toils of which you tire.

But you can pull off an uncanny disguise and show another side in which your Mr. Hyde

can confide that shares a rising tide of lies and weary sighs of compulsive deception and

false perception by which you hurt people and lose their trust with imbibed lust;

your heart of gold turned to rust because you’re a fucking selfish person we never know exists, but revealed is the disguise and the need for foreign trysts and a well-played act that

I was so missed.

You do not know love.

Only your words say I was missed.

That uncanny disguise ensures this.

 

The conception I had was that you were always good,

I never knew part of you could spit poisonous words like you think you should,

but I learned that there was a dichotomy, and you have no remorse,

you admit the deed but show no shame of course.

I expect an apology, I need an explanation, but never on your part will be

there be an initiation to a course of healing,

a chance to understand a message of diplomacy from you first-hand,

the act hurts bad enough, the lies make it worse,

but a refusal to let me understand is making my heart burst.

 

I know your laughter and your sense of humor,

and the idea you lie must be a rumor,

and I know how you smile and I owned the feeling of knowing your love,

I embraced that endless grace and those gifts from above,

but it was all in vain, covered in scathing rains,

bound to be broken by your lack of respect and your greed and selfishness and

sin was something I never thought could win, but I suppose your Jekyll had a yang to his yin,

and thus is the disguise – is that really you, or someone we never knew?

You can tell me you’re madly in love with me, you can hold me tight,

the look in your eye says “everything’s alright”, but impossible is it to know

what really goes on, for so full of lies is this disguise which you don.

 

Do you remember those times when I’d hold you close,

when you told me you felt safe safer than with most.

I knew your history, I listened to your past,

having people that don’t give a shit inflicted wounds so fast.
But I was different, I loved you truly, but your priorities unruly;

horribly disfigured you could’ve become and you’d still be the only one,

how can you not understand that this was the case,

and discarding me is a waste,

will any other man kiss the tears off of your face?

 

So look me in the fucking eye. Tell me you won’t apologize.

I don’t want but need to know why there are other guys

and the incessant lies and above these constraining ties will you ever rise?

Are you fucking human enough to realize the problem with disingenuous goodbyes?

Tony Blauvelt 10/15/12 completed