I write incomplete poems
And what does that mean?
Is it a banal symbolism to how incomplete I am in your absence?
But the world tells me I don’t need nobody
I am flawless, valiant with no tarnish
At least that’s what I was raised to be
Is it regarding how I could never tell you how I truly felt?
As I blew the chances when I got them
And pushed you away
But how does this get resolved by walking out on me
Couldn’t wait for ten after twenty days
Is it ‘cause you never knew the complete me as I kept my guard too high?
Perturbed, I did not let you in my life
Told you no disconcerted stories of mine
Honey, I was afraid to be questioned
It got none to do with you
Why do I write incomplete poems?
And what does it mean?
.
