Posts Tagged ‘angry’

Laughter and Love

of which I know not-

these amazing Gifts

to others are brought.

 

I stew under Gray,

I sigh in Quiet-

conceal this discontent,

knowing not how long

I may hide it.

My white heart is gaining stains

and beginning to stink like garbage.

 

If you would have taken it,

it would have bloomed like a rose,

 

it wouldn’t become unsightly.

But, my dear, you’re not a good liar.

 

Truths bleed through the phone,

and I piece them together.

 

A half-truth is, after all,

a whole, stinking lie.

 

I’m wearing black now.

You’re wearing red

 

and consorting with a Union Jack.

You’re alive.

 

Where am I?

Not in your eyes. Not on your mind.

I wish there was a place I belonged.

Where I could escape the screams,

escape the judgement

of eyes widen and staring,

or, thin as worms, glaring.

I wish there was a place I belonged

for even among friends

everything I say is counted against me

with angry exclamations,

or approved with subtle laughter–

not the roaring guffaws

they make after each other’s comments.

I wish there was a place

where I could listen to music that moves,

rustles the long grass blades of my mind,

not this mindless drivel

driving its guitar riffs against gravel vocals.

I wish there was a place where I had friends

who wished to go where I wished to go.

 

I feel the wind on my face,

it caresses, tugs my clothes

and pulls me toward the heart of the forest

near the hills behind my home.

I’m alone.

The sun beats overhead.

For now, I’m where I belong.

Here, in this quiet focus of the natural, blue, green,

and yellow world. It speaks in whispers.

I belong here.

Alone.

I am reaching into me

and killing this love.

I don’t know if I could call it that,

I ignore its screams as it dies

like a baby bird at the hands of a great blizzard.

It makes me want to cry,

and yet my eyes are dry steel

as I strangle this,

this stagnant love.

See, you left it that way.

Unreciprocated, and since my hands can’t reach you

they’re entering my throat

and killing this love as it rots in its own salt-filth.

It hurts, but I cannot cry,

because I am only on the edge of a desert

dancing at night

and walking, walking each day.

It has taken me over a year to journey

from the red, vacuous, and boiling center

to this edge where a bustling city moves

like opportunity.

I am killing this love to move forward.

I am leaving what fantasies,

what memories I have of you

to suffocate and burn on the sand.