Side Three…

799308

~
Every love becomes hate story…
Is a circle with three sides…

There is his and there is hers…
Both are desperate to advise…

Each with a made up version…
Of what they want you to hear…

Both twisting and distorting…
To custom fit your listening ear…

Then somewhere in-between…
All the hurt and all their lies…

Quietly sits the side three…
Which neither party can disguise…

It’s the heart of the matter…
Forged from the purest truth…

One no detective can decipher…
Not even the greatest sleuth…

It’s the grey area that’s ignored…
The facts that fiction glazes over…

The real reason for their pain…
Like an unwelcome hangover…

Because this version will not bend…
It refuses to be subjective…

And without any feelings…
It remains true, cold and objective…

So no matter what is said…
By each or either party…

Who will spin and try disguise…
To ensure the waters are murky…

It remains something honest…
For that reason it’s overlooked…

But when listening to each version…
Truth needs to be fish hooked…

And dragged into the picture…
Before any judgement is made…

Or you think of taking sides…
Between the light and the shade…

Because care needs to be taken…
Believing versions of their story…

And choosing between his and hers…
As they try rewrite their history…

~

©Eyewillnotcry1973

Inspired by the song “If You Could Read My Mind” By Gordon Lightfoot

“The feeling’s gone and I just can’t get it back”…

'dj

~

It used to be something…
But now it’s all gone…

Only echoes still remain…
Of what was so strong…

A fragment of a memory…
That stirs now and again…

Rising to the surface…
Quickly descending and then…

Becoming that feeling…
Of numbness, of nothing…

Like a man in the ground…
Buried cold in his coffin…

But reminding you that…
There once was a passion…

That would take a hold…
And leave you gasping…

Left you begging for more…
Got you so very high …

It was mixed with danger…
Toxic deception and lies…

Providing guilty pleasure…
The stuff of your dreams…

And it took you to places…
You never thought you’d see…

But what began as fantasy…
Then became something else…

It became dark and twisted…
It became bad for your health…

So you pushed it away…
Tried to lighten the load…

By blocking the demons…
And the visions they showed…

Yet despite all the heartache…
Some days you crave it so bad…

And wonder if it will ever…
Perhaps, maybe come back…

But until that moment…
There’s a void full of nothing…

An empty hole in the blackness…
That used to be something…

~

“I don’t know where we went wrong”…

799308

~

Every love becomes hate story,
is a circle with three sides…

There is his and there is hers,
both are desperate to advise…

Each with a made up version,
of what they want you to hear…

Both twisting and distorting,
to custom fit your listening ear…

Then somewhere in-between,
all the hurt and all their lies…

Quietly sits the third side,
that neither party can disguise…

It’s the heart of the matter,
forged from the purest truth…

One no detective can decipher,
not even Sherlock the great sleuth…

It’s the grey area that’s ignored,
the facts that fiction glazes over…

The real reason for their pain,
like an unwelcome hangover…

Because this version will not bend,
it refuses to be subjective…

And without any feelings,
it remains true, cold and objective…

So no matter what is said,
by each or either party…

Who will spin and try disguise,
to ensure the waters are murky…

It remains something honest and
for that reason it’s overlooked…

But when listening to each story,
it needs to be fished and hooked…

And dragged into the picture,
before any judgement is made…

Or you think of taking sides,
between the light and the shade…

Because care needs to be taken,
before believing versions of their story…

And choosing between his and hers,
as they bend and rewrite their history…

~