Love, in Retrospect

Daisy's picture

--- Yet another spoken wordy piece about Anna and a migraine... Damn I need some new material... Hope you guys like it well enough. It's rather pretty, I think. ---

Love, in Retrospect

The thing about the past is that
it isn’t coming back.
Everything I’ve had is
everything you chose to lack.
I hate feeling
uninspired
I hate feeling
closed, made
of metal from head
to toe a brick a stone not
one
of you.
And I hate feeling
like
one
of you.
I hate being
the only one
in the room.
I hate that I assume I can be normal like normal
is something that anyone can aspire
to, the way they
told you
in school
that you could be president
someday
if you so
desired.
Did your heart sink
at all
when you learned that was
a lie?
Was it even
a surprise?
Or were you already used
to it, accustomed to
disappointment, familiar
with
change.
I spent years praying
for rain -- who
did I think
I was?
And what
does it mean
to have
a face?
I guess I hate
identity.
The notion that we
all have something
to say, something
to
explain.
The trees outside the window are tangled
senseless green
it seems like if I screamed they might hear me.
I hate the fact that when someone is sleeping near me our dreams don’t mix together.
Each of us is forever
condemned
to be
alone
inside a literal prison of bone,
two thick walls will always be
between us.
Who do you think
I am?
Her voice on the telephone trills and she is thrilled
at another girl’s loss, counting
all her chances like
lucky stars.
She says, “What if
he doesn’t like me? Then where will
we be?

Comments

christa's picture

i like it

i really like this poem. it is pretty yet still deep.

*is not life so fucking great, or is it just mine. Sarcastically said.*
*kisses*

niks121997's picture

...

I liked this piece. As you said, it's pretty.

"Life's under no obligation to give us what we expect. We take what we get and are thankful that it is no worse than it is."

"All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream."