she needed people who listened
and helped her to empty her heart;
it was so large and fragile,
and she so easily filled it
with the wrong things,
with weight that was not hers to carry
she needed people who listened
and helped her to empty her heart;
it seemed to always need
emptying
-image via Pixabay
am I irrelevant?
I suppose asking that question
is like pissing in the wind,
when the answer is likely
to be twisted,
pointed back in my direction,
the wall of defense too thick,
when I’m left feeling peripheral,
in focus only when my voice is loud,
the squeaky wheel getting the grease,
a game of manipulation,
one I’m no longer willing to play,
when my thinking of you and hoping you’ll do the same becomes inconsequential,
exteraneous,
irrelevant
ash, blowing in the wind
-image via Pinterest, original source unknown
sometimes it happens so quickly –
looking at a person and seeing inside,
pins and needles in a current traveling up your spine and taking residence in each prickle of gooseflesh
in a flash, you see the core of a person,
as fast as the pull and push of a single breath
there it is,
right there, in the furrow of the brow line,
taking up the vast blackness of the pupils,
all the pain and disappointment oozing itself out of two lash-lined windows
and just as fast, they close up –
not even a chisel or a bulldozer could open them again
-image via Tumblr
I am not one of you
I’m a sieve
A sponge
I adsorb your cue
I am not one of you
I’m a strum
A reciprocal vibration
I hear your hue
I am not one of you
I’m a bubble
A transparent vessel
I see right through
I am not one of you
I’m a translator
A personifier
I feel your askew
I am not one of you
I’m a palate
A canvas
I soak in, imbue
I am not one of you
I’m a double-take
A tip of the tongue
I’m Deja vu
I am not one of you
I’m a moment
A slide show
I’m a tribute
I am not one of you
I’m a quarry
An excavation
I’m a revue
-Image found on Tumblr, source unknown
I’ve got a heart of paper maché,
of scraps others leave behind,
of their elephants trying to remain unseen,
of what’s unspoken, between the lines
I’ve got a heart of paper mache,
of layers upon layers of glue,
of all the smiles and hugs and tears,
of a mold, form fitted to you
-photo found on Flickr
