“Grow Up, Moon Boy” collection. #5

TOO LATE: poem

(Written around March 2009. Updated 2021.)

Here you both are, face to face— 
how drastically, my friend, things have changed. 
He sees in you now such vulnerability—
your arrogant pride’s been converted to 
incredible humility. 
Tonight, you plead for forgiveness, a second try—
to say He still loves you, 
and not to lie.

Being put on the spot,
he stares up to the sky, away from your painfully 
sad eyes on the verge of crying. 
He remembers how great things used to be, 
the times when it was still you 
and he.

Late night phone calls lasting for hours,
he was your superman, you gave him his powers. 
He would do anything,
travel near or far, if it meant being with you. 
For in his mind, you were worth it,
there was never a doubt, that was until 
the real you began to come out. 
He noticed a change, 
things became different. 
Suddenly cold, you stopped caring, as your soul 
had been corroded by fungus slowly twisting 
behind cleverly decorated walls 
of fool’s gold.

That's why it fell apart—he remembers now. 
You played with his gentle heart, 
and put him through hell. 
He was naïve before you, but you 
opened his eyes, perverted his innocence with 
your games
and lies.

Because of you, 
his precious trust 
was sealed and locked up. 
He suspects the worst in all, 
and holds tight 
to the firm grip on his damaged heart.

It is for this very reason—
karma, one might call it— 
that he’d like to answer yes. . . but sorry, 
you’re too late.