Tuesday, August 23, 2005

an older poem. one published in, caught in the net. something, while i work on new poems. see, honesty at work, it's too nice of a day here in pittsburgh to be sitting inside and beating my head against the wall, forcing my muse.



stoney fields


oh christ,
i can not stand this, this nothingness
it feels as if you don't exist for me anymore, as if you
never did
a few days of silence and the eternity of my imagination runs
riot, barefoot and bleeding
through the stoney field of my insecurities
what and with who, and
was she better, better than
me? did you ever care? the
lies told, needing to be believed in those heated moments come
back now, sharp and shiny with the cold
my heart and the nearness of your smile not warming them into
comfortable whiteness
they stand dark, demanding to be asked about, picked apart
word by word and you
nowhere to answer, for you never existed after all, perhaps a
good thing, a
blessing, for what could you say but another lie or
worse,
the truth, and then?


1 comment:

Sherry Pasquarello said...

and then??????