A poem I wrote, about
regret and
self pity, and finding the will to fight them off.
I thought this place was a
sanctuary…
aye, and all too soon
For silence mocks the words I say and walls tumble like
dice in
Atlantic City…
Forgive the
insanity…I know not what I do.
Pacifiers and
fire engines in
stunning sunset-red,
And harassed by those who know better.
Hold me…No, don’t after all…it’s wrong, as you said...
Can’t you make up my
mind?
For
uncertain sureness, the world will find you a
suitor, all you need to is wait…
And all the
roses in the
world will not come so
cold ends as me,
Rose of
ice, of
silvery sirens, of
blue eyes sharp as
wit.
No warm hand will
melt me. And though I say that I do not care,
I do care, or I never would have said that I didn’t…
I have such
trouble understanding the
human mind…
But
I don’t care.
I make
arrangements of dried
flowers, lucky them that they are dead.
They won’t feel the
pain of the slow
death in an
ornamental vase that I would award them.
Forgive me, flowers, you deserve better than I can give you…
And thus I cast them into the unforgiving
ocean, and very soon after,
I somehow find the
courage…to walk away from the
window
And not cast myself.