I can’t name you or call you by your name, at this time. You are streaked against the glass, your guts are spilling out.
Be brave and talk to yourself. You deserve to hear the truth as much as I do. Wait. No.
Let me tell you.
You’ve soiled yourself again like an elderly flower. I came to change you, but you won’t have me anywhere
outside of your bed.
Well my bed is too nervous to have you, so I take my voice back instead of shaming you. Wait. No. Let me hand it to you. She is braver than you.
Have you heard what they call her? Does she even have a name? It doesn’t matter. She is stronger than water and moves like a rock.
I bricked her, I blocked her,
but her head is tilted right to the life-sized bottle of wine at her side. At this time, I can’t call you, or name you, or love you, or hate you.
I answer only to the thin
glass dividing us,
that let’s nothing in.
Wonderful imagery and a powerful statement
Thanks for the comment. Thanks more for reading!
Reblogged this on Weaving Among The Stars.
Reblogged this on Poem Loves Noise.
At this time, I can’t call you, or name you, or love you, or hate you. Really strikes home.
doesn’t it? I feel ya buddy!