Thus Writes The Fool

I suppose this is what you get
when you put yourself on the line.
Regardless what you expect,
you're stuck with what happens,
and figuring out where to go
from here.
I want you to know that
I wore my heart on my sleeve
(by my standards, at least),
against all odds
and despite my better judgment.
I wore my heart on my sleeve
(by my standards, at least)
not because I was in denial
or because I thought
it would all turn out perfectly,
but because I wanted to live,
and sometimes taking a gamble
is what that means.
Risk-taking pays off one way
or another,
and it didn't pan out this time,
but there's always a next,
and I will gamble on it
because I want to live.
I gambled on you,
I lost,
and life has me quite pinned down
in several different rings,
but I swear I'll make
a fucking comeback
despite everything.
I want you to know
that I really wanted to know you,
and that the moment we fell
over Jimmy Henrix's feet
was the moment I fell
for you.
Not that it makes a difference
either way, anymore, because
you're still hidden,
a mystery beyond me.
I want you to know
that I dealt benefits of the doubt
like there was no tomorrow,
and now tomorrow has arrived
and I have no regrets
but I'd by lying if I said
I wasn't hurting,
yet I blame no one but myself.
Vulnerability, perhaps honesty,
will make fools of us all,
and so perhaps you were
the clever one,
writes the fool.