Paradox

Here is a poem from my book Like Ripples in Water (you can purchase the book, if you'd like, here: https://www.amazon.com/Like-Ripples-Water-Collection-Parts/dp/1979629595/ref=sr_1_2?keywords=garrett+willis+like+ripples&qid=1570411434&sr=8-2)

Paradox

I have this pit inside me—

This pit that's deep

And it's filled with emptiness.

How contradictory,

How paradoxical,

How shitty.

And I know I can't fill it—

This empty-filled pit—

With a view of the setting sun,

Or a gaze up at the lambent stars.

But I think—

I think—

I can fill it with the sound of you

Breathing next to me

At one in the morning.

With the darkened room

Still, and the porch light

Lightly seeping in through the window,

And the dim light gently touching

The wall.

Touching the wall the opposite way

Of how I touched it

When you said you were leaving.

I found myself drunk the other night—

Not that you'd be surprised;

I found myself thinking:

I thought of you;

I thought of me;

I thought of us.

And I realized that the fingers

That have intertwined with yours

Are the same ones that

Have slid across your cheeks in anger.

I'm not a perfect person; I know that.

I'm not a good person; I know that.

I'm an asshole; I know that.

I wish I could say you made me want to change,

But, in a way, you enabled me—

Not that it was your fault;

It was always my fault;

I know that now.

I saw you as a canvas

On which I could plant my paintbrushes.

I wish you the best.

You and I both know

That it wasn't me.

It never was,

And it never will be.

If, by some chance,

I left a minuscule pit in you,

I hope you're able to fill it

With a view of the setting sun,

Or a gaze up at the stars.