Importance of forked paths

     Is it really necessary to find
the roads that fork in the middle? Is
there importance in the views pursued
there?

     Some soft,  distant stare finds the
hope crawling through passionate
movements only to be halted.  Yet what
do the words all mean?

     Alas I cannot explore them now.
The motions seem so worthless. Just as
friendships are dwindling.  Perhaps
that is the lure of the lonely one.

     A quiet stance that embarrasses
the clear hope.  One that drags tears
from deep within.  Craving their own
forked path down freckled tarnished
maps.

    Perhaps the gingerly spoken words
only open to unexpected sighs. Daresay
the hope clings.  Not in desperation but
just out of pure love.

    Oh how I cannot seem to have that.
A method of me not placed to enjoy.
Perhaps a bit of self loathing or
over critisizing through. What is left
to be said but that of empty words.

    Ones where I must talk,  talk,  talk
yet observe with deaf ears,  listening.
How can I not just close up?  Answer
I give is "fine" to the endless
questions.

    Alas does it matter?