THE CHASE

 

THE CHASE

I’VE CHASED RAINBOWS,

FLEETING ARCS OF COLOR DISSOLVED IN STORMS,

WHISKEY THAT BURNED AS IT PROMISED WARMTH,

AND CONNECTIONS, FRAGILE AND FIERCE—

SOME WITH SOULS I BARELY TOLERATED,

LET ALONE HELD CLOSE IN LOVE’S EMBRACE.

I’VE WORN THE MASK OF “THAT GIRL,”

THE ONE WHO DIALED TOO OFTEN IN THE DARK,

FINGERS TREMBLING AFTER THE SILENCE FELL,

A ECHO OF DESPERATION I COULDN’T NAME.

HEARTS SHATTERED BENEATH MY STEPS,

MINE CRACKED IN RETURN—

A CYCLE OF FRACTURES I COULDN’T DECIPHER,

EVEN WHEN I SQUINTED THROUGH THE HAZE,

TILTED FRAMES OF MEMORY SIDEWAYS,

SHIFTED ANGLES OF REGRET.

THE MISTAKES STAYED BLURRED,

A RIDDLE WRITTEN IN SHADOWS—

PERHAPS IT’S NOT MY EYES THAT FAILED,

BUT MY MIND, UNMOORED AND LOST.  

I WASN’T CASTING NETS WIDE,

PLAYING THE FIELD WITH RECKLESS GLEE,

NOR STAKING CLAIMS TO FOREVER—

YET I KEPT A LEDGER IN MY BONES,

TALLYING WINS AND LOSSES,

COUNTING COINS OF MOMENTS SPENT.

THOSE YEARS, TANGLED AND KNOTTED,

WADDED UP LIKE YARN IN RESTLESS HANDS,

UNRAVELED SLOWLY TO REVEAL A TRUTH—

ONE I ONLY NOW CAN TRACE:

I AM A HUNTER,

DRIVEN BY A QUIET HUNGER,

SEEKING THE SOFTNESS OF A WOMAN’S SKIN,

THE WARMTH OF HER TOUCH LIKE A BEACON,

AND THE MYSTERY SHE CARRIES—

A PUZZLE WRAPPED IN CURVES AND WHISPERS,

A SECRET I YEARNED TO UNLOCK.  

THE CHASE WAS NEVER JUST A GAME,

BUT A QUEST I DIDN’T UNDERSTAND—

NOT FOR TROPHIES OR CONQUESTS,

BUT FOR SOMETHING SLIPPING THROUGH MY GRASP,

LIKE RAINBOWS FADING INTO GRAY,

OR WHISKEY EVAPORATING ON THE TONGUE.

I KEPT SCORE NOT TO WIN,

BUT TO PROVE I’D FELT IT ALL—

THE STING, THE YEARNING, THE MESS OF ME.

AND NOW, IN THE QUIET AFTER THE HUNT,

I SEE THE RIDDLE WAS NEVER HERS TO SOLVE,

BUT MINE—

A MIRROR HELD TO MY OWN MYSTERY,

A HEART STILL LEARNING ITS OWN SHAPE.