Stories I Would Tell

There’s a story I’ve been wanting to write.
And look—there’s another one now.
Prancing around, just out of reach.
She wants me to follow. And I could. I would
just reach out my hand and then…
But what would I do?
I’d just have another story to tell.
Another mouth to empty,
and it’s only so quickly that I can
regurgitate words.
“It doesn’t have to be
pretty,” she begs.
“It doesn’t have to be real.
Just…”
She casts off all her illusions.
She lays her secrets bare.
“You can have everything!”
But I won’t.
I keep too many secrets already.
Ones that I shouldn’t.
Too many good, hearty, healthy dreams
go to waste and wither undigested.
Don’t bring me tales to tell.
There is world enough left for me to conquer,
but time?
I would tell you, Story, I would,
but time.