August

[carose59]

August
(doubts)


Today gravity
           seems
                not 
                 a 
               natural 
         phenomenon
       but the desultory curse 
            of a discontented god.

I make my way through heat-soaked air,
     dragged to ground by the weight of     nothing,

                    my body composed
                not of bone
                   and blood
                          but anger,
                                               grief 

                        (trace elements of joy).

Two truths haunt me:   I will never be the girl I was

                    (not that you ever loved her;
            that lie lives only in the shadows
                      hovering around my nightlight)
  and we will never be.





And so I search for distance,
              seek control,
              sing
      (not sad songs),
and conjugate the loneliness of us: we
                                       are not,
                                      will not be, 
                                      have not been.

Your home is not my solace.
   My heart is not your home.

Comments

sigh

[wolfdancer.livejournal.com]

Sing a song of grayness
a echo of a forgoten joy
Once apon a time I remembered this.
when I was a girl and loved a boy

Gone, grown to a old woman,
with old woman pain and fears
Gone is the young boy
and his smile that could quell my fears.

Diana Swiger.

Re: sigh

[carose59.livejournal.com]

Oh, I like that. I really feel that.

Thank you.