I Tell Myself too Many Things to Track
a villanelle

Learning to give up is me, looking back
only to see a bed of open air.
I can never just cut myself some slack.
Lately, it seems everyone has the knack;
but not us, here. No one asks how we fare.
Learning to give up is me, looking back,
realizing it might all just fade to black;
no announcements to stop us waiting there.
I can never just cut myself some slack.
I tell myself too many things to track:
It’s me. It’s him. It’s so simple. It’s rare.
Learning to give up is me, looking back
at all I have and what I’ve come to lack.
Lists of names bundle into one big snare—
I can never just cut myself some slack.
Each month, I trip on tightropes and cracks.
A bed of smiles grows rapidly more bare.
Learning to give up is me, looking back—
I could never just cut myself some slack.
About the Creator
Mackenzie Davis
“When you are describing a shape, or sound, or tint, don’t state the matter plainly, but put it in a hint. And learn to look at all things with a sort of mental squint.” Lewis Carroll
Boycott AI!
Copyright Mackenzie Davis.



Comments (4)
"A bed of smiles grows rapidly more bare." That's the danger line. You know it's got to change, but you don't want to give up because you will have to change or everything will. There is comfort in the familiar even when it isn't what you want.
"I trip on tightropes and cracks" -- that's a squinty line. Well done.
This poem has so much rhythm, it’s like a song. Love it, Mackenzie
Yeahhhhh...glad to see you put this out. Love "..trip on tightropes..." I also enjoyed the way you carried the refrain from the fifth to the sixth stanza. At the same time, it's such a mournful look at a relationships and how we view them. Nice work!