This is the Cold Hard Truth

Here's the secret to it all.

Did you catch that? It moves so fast across
the screen that you can't even
see it. Almost as if
it was never even there.
Like I purposefully didn't
write anything.
Why are you looking for secrets here
when I don't have the answers,
and poetry is just a sad story writer who
thinks that sometimes words
should be a disguise,
hiding things that are too
much - beauty, pain, wisdom - for
prose?
Why did you think that
because this is a poem, and
maybe you've read my other
poems, and maybe you thought
the title was alluring,
that I would offer you anything even
remotely
brand new?

Did you see that blankness? It was
the cold hard truth,
it was the hurt
the emptiness,
the pain.
And now, because I've used a lot
of sad words for no
obvious reason, you will spend
the rest of this poem
(and maybe a few moments longer)
wondering what I meant and how this is
beautiful.