a game.
a puzzle to be solved
but ever evading resolution
i tried to grasp onto these words as my throat closed off.
they were coming
as the man with the lies spoke
with his fake profundity
they began to spill as his superficial voice grew
i began to tremble and i said to myself
you are a closed book
don't let him read you
and the tears wet my face as i tore the phone
away
from my ill-fated ear
i tried to lift my drooping heart
it sagged to the floor
i left it there
as i tore him apart
searching for what i had come for
they would not win this time
they would not rise up to save him
i would get them
and only then would i be solaced
his lies were cowards
they ran as i attacked
i hoped they wouldn't return
but not even i could dream up such an unreachable task
they would be back soon enough
along with all his other
fabrications and
ever continuous words
the latter were back sooner than expected
he spoke of the pain he's felt
and i sensed the tears falling
i almost felt for him,
as the wool began to darken my sight
he asked
"do you think we could learn about life from death?"
and the illusion was
shot
his words wouldn't have even been scripted in the tackiest film
did he really think i would credit this---respect it even?
this tawdry sentence
sickened me
it played
over
in my
mind
"do you think we could learn about life from death?"
his words are always so cheap
so innocent
it's hard to resist stopping to ponder the merchandise
it's a good thing i've learned not to buy
because though the show is dazzling
the performance
always. falls.
short.
but now i'm rambling about a conversation
that never happened
not to me anyway
because i wasn't there
my body was, yes
but me, oh the elusive
me
who i really am
was gone.
whisked away by the wind
as the phone was torn from that
ill-fated ear
ill-fated ear
Guess what, darling.
ReplyDeleteI found your blog.
And it's lovely. :)
And you're lovely.
And you're beautiful.
And i love you.
--Olive.