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Willcox Days

Willcox days are
like Willcox nights;
Filled with wine,
But the harsh sun on the high plains
Illuminates all flaws,
And drives away hopes
With the brightness of reality.
While stars bring comfort,
The day brings harsh truths.
Nobody wants me in their co-ferment.

We seek to blend, toil,
taste our alchemy at the end,
seeking perfection,
With enzymes and additives
and other grapes
To achieve perfection.

But that best wine
at the end of the day
Was a viognier.
All alone.
No additions,
No modifications.

Just on its own,
Toughened up by
a little new oak.
Just like how life has
beaten me up a little
around the ears.

Maybe after all
I shouldn't seek you
Or anyone else as a companion.
Maybe I'm best on my own after all
With all my hurt, my pain, my sorrow.
As much as I love you,
I know the ending--
you'll leave me in the night
Finding me lacking.
Unwanted. Unloved.

You speak of tenderness now
But how do I know that your words
Have True Meaning,
and aren't just said
Because you know what I want to hear?

Every time I declare
That i am all in
I am cast out back
Into the darkness.

Maybe I should tell you to go away now
And leave me alone
So I can nurse the pain alone
Like I always have
Under the harsh sun of Willcox days,
Before you cast me aside to drift
In the high desert breezes
Like tumbleweeds into oblivion.

But maybe I misunderstand
As my heart tries to
slam shut gates in terror of the siege.
I can't flee, despite my fears,
For I am dug in too deep
My roots reaching
Towards distant water tables
Within the bones of ancient seas.
So I wait for you to bring the pruners
And cut me out of your life...
Just in case you decide not to.