Poetry

My Signature Lies To You

I am deeply ashamed

All has hitherto been said. My signature lies to you. No. Perhaps you’ve already caught me? In which case — something should really be done about it.

This isn’t poetry; never trust the disguise.

Neither do I offer full truths. It might not be possible.

Nor rhymes.

But this is almost to be expected from anyone. The truest lie designates me as a ‘Wanderer’. Yes.

For where have I wandered in over five years? Unless city night walks count. I did roam over seventy-one kilometers during the month of June.

Which is about forty-four miles. I had no internet. Otherwise, my walks from work, for a few years, were three hours across the city. I loved every moment of it. That was lockdown, in 2021. I miss my mountain hikes. Life is still young, and I’m not ready to give up the title. I will wander once more. So long as I live.

I had to confess, that much wasn’t an option. I’m grateful if you understand. Or else, I can’t allow myself to care any more than I already have. If this is enough to lose you forever, know I will always cherish what we had. Without you, it’s a complete universe in which I don’t exist. I must thank you for giving me life.

Perhaps there’s nothing that needs to be done. I really hadn’t thought it through very well. Or would you rather disagree? It’s within your rights, your privilege. Think the lowest of me, and wait for the chance to spit upon my grave.

I accept it. Maybe I’m wrong about that too. It’s hard to tell, looking only from my own two eyes.

I press you for feedback. See what I am, a filthy scoundrel, begging on their knees. Why do I find this funny? I don’t understand. You may trace me your response, in a great bed of sand. No! Please don’t do that, unless you’re sending it to me as an image through email land.

If you’ve read through this far, know I’m impressed, grateful, feeling blessed. Every penny I make by you is a gift I can’t refuse. Has it taken me this long to realize I must make you my muse? No. I’ve thought of it before. But I don’t know yet who you are.

Which is fine, if you’re dedicated to secrecy above all else. There’s nothing to be done about it.

I don’t think I’ve lied to anyone.

If I have, then please pretend I’ve accepted it all along, for me.

It’s all I ask.

Sincerely,

— G

About the Author:

🔍 ㅤGustave Deresse Is a Truthful & Theatrical Métis-Canadian Writer, Editor, Wanderer, Cook, and Musical Artist Who Enjoys Exploring Themes as Spirituality, Logic, Life, Philosophy, Nature, Neurocognitive Psychology, Creativity, Writing, Humour, Inspiration, Music, Wellbeing — and the Weird.

P.S. Sooner or later, I tend to edit my pieces. Subscribe to my stories by email for the best chance to catch my original works!

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I appreciate you, take care.

Sincerely, — G