letter to a pronoun

this letter is to you,you know who you are you stranger-walk through the garden of human interaction flowers brushing against your ankles asking for reciprocity in touching but your fingers refuse i watch you smell peace in the air asking to be breathed you sniff to taste but refuse to inhale, afraid that your lungs will become familiar with holdingwhat that can never possess i watch you dig up trust, like an anthropologist classify it as an artifact of great lost ideal hang it in bad-memory museums/and abstract art view it as a colorful mural with no real meaning outside of your imagination but your heart doesn't listen your imagination anymore doesn't like museums/ and has lost it's appreciation for art you only go to playgrounds now holding covert seances with the spirits of the young: fantasizing about finding never never land where you'll never grow up, never know disappointment never experience heartbreak, never love to you love is a passive aggressive war game that adults use to murder dreams, and the only way to win is not play so you joined the antiwar movement protested the terrorist attacks of abusive men on battered women carried picket signs against the merciless bombings of innocent hearts and true devotion. asked for reparations for time spent in she-said-she-loved-me concentration camps. demanded that all prisoners of war be set free, allowed to go home then you took an oath promising to never join the fighting to never walk with troops in the battlefields of relationships promised to be a conscious desenter forever civilian life is safer/doesn't demand a winner or loser/ has no casualties/ it's safer/it's safer no one ever told you the truth. cowards testified against love to cover up their inadequacies. bad mouthed love to divert attention away from their short comings.if i paint an ugly picture, you wouldn't say painting sucks. you would say i suck at painting, but admitting we suck at love would make us take responsibility for our actions and take away all the excuses we use to justify complaining so we made love the fall guy and you believed joined the pity-me bandwagon and rode your faithful horse shit-happens into the love-is-for-suckers sunset and now tell horror stories on the other side of the i'll-never-trust-again horizon/trying to discourage anybody considering love as an option still refusing to admit love doesn't hurt people/people hurt people love isn't blind/we close our eyes when we don't want to see what we are seeing forgetting that no matter how perfect the picture looks it was painted by an imperfect being/prone to make mistakes instead of practicing our brush strokes and refining our techniques/we speak ill of the art of love painting fires in trees and oil in lakes pessimistically naming the portrait- this is my fate forgetting that the future is not something you arrive at but it's something that you create/so create it the world is not something you made/but your life is what you make it/is the colors you paint it/so create it as big and beautiful as you want it. create it the way you want it/you'll have to live in the picture you've painted. art classes might be a good idea