I wish I had
a name
for what
lurks beneath the surface,
the only
thing that’s valid,
true blue,
true to you,
raising my hackles,
filling me
with fury,
and compelling
me
to poke,
heave stones,
and beat at you
with
whatever comes to hand.
I long to
see the not-you
shatter at
my feet,
broken into dark sharp
shards
of phony
magnanimity,
false reason
and overwrought
compassion.
What would
be left then?
Some fragile, gentle thing
that I would cherish to my heart,
or a
monster?
These are
the things I ponder late at night
in my room,
in the dark,
in the narrow
spaces of my mind,
and in the
tattered remnants
7 comments:
Powerful and thought-provoking, Ann.
February 20, 2013 at 12:42 PMa very thoughtful piece
February 20, 2013 at 12:47 PMWhy heave anguished sighs?
February 20, 2013 at 2:06 PMPonder alternatives.
Leaving is valid
Really sad. This poem really captures what it's like to love someone who is bad for you.
February 20, 2013 at 6:41 PMMakes me want to do a bit of magnanimity smashing, too.
February 20, 2013 at 11:14 PMReality seems both sharper and more tattered in the middle of the night..a battle in the head..perhaps in full knowledge that come morning the majority of fronts are somewhat false..
February 21, 2013 at 6:56 AMPacked with emotions. I like the idea that when all the "magnanimity" ha been smashed, what would be left behind? Great work with the prompt. :)
February 21, 2013 at 10:35 AMPost a Comment