Mea Culpa?

So you say.
You say so.
Say so you.
Your parlor tricks
may have gone up in the smoke
but it takes two to tango
and I let you lead.
So what now?
Tears
sprout
in my chest
bloom
in my throat
surge upward
blossoming across my cheeks.
Can’t stop them.
What if, I I don’t stop
what if,
I cry myself a river and drown
what if,
everything I love is swept away
what if,
there nothing left inside
what if,
I am crying over spilt milk
what if,
I am watering a dead garden
what if,
this is all my fault…
Nope.
Like every American boy I love epiphanies
second chances
cosmic rebirth
waking myself from one nightmare
just to lullaby myself into the next dream
rousing just enough
to fool myself
to plump my pillow
with the hot air of delusion
so I can drift away
sure and secure
that I have climbed the next rung
of enlightenment.