sestina #3
on the steps behind the pool--that time
when you were so lost and hurt
even he could tell. he tried to brush
the tears from your cheeks, and he hung around
longer than usual. you told him you were just tired.
you did not tell him that you were tired
of somehow always ending up alone
--or that whenever he was around
you wished that maybe for once time
could just stop, and you could brush
the hair from his face, without fear of any hurt
for either of you. god, it hurt--
the way he would always say "i'm tired;
let's go to sleep" when you wanted to brush
your lips against his. but you left him alone
because even if there was hardly ever a time
when you could do anything more than be around
him, it was better to have him around
than to scare him off. so you masked the hurt
and made yourself think that perhaps in time
he would realize that he wasn't really tired,
just scared, and that he didn't want to be alone
any more than you did. he would brush
your face with his, his unshaven chin a stiff brush
against your skin. when he wasn't around,
you held that dream inside and felt less alone
--less hopeless. a life without the hurt
of a love dulled by fear...no matter how tired
you were, that thought made you smile every time.
but gradually you have come to accept that time
does not heal all wounds. he'll probably never brush
away the heartsick creases from your tired
forehead. these days he isn't even really around
to hold you or comfort you when you hurt.
these days you cry alone.
you feel alone all the time.
it will always hurt, but you'll just brush
the pain aside. if he's around, you'll just say you're tired.
Poetry by protean
Read 653 times
Written on 2010-05-30 at 21:25
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Roommates
you still think about the day he found you aloneon the steps behind the pool--that time
when you were so lost and hurt
even he could tell. he tried to brush
the tears from your cheeks, and he hung around
longer than usual. you told him you were just tired.
you did not tell him that you were tired
of somehow always ending up alone
--or that whenever he was around
you wished that maybe for once time
could just stop, and you could brush
the hair from his face, without fear of any hurt
for either of you. god, it hurt--
the way he would always say "i'm tired;
let's go to sleep" when you wanted to brush
your lips against his. but you left him alone
because even if there was hardly ever a time
when you could do anything more than be around
him, it was better to have him around
than to scare him off. so you masked the hurt
and made yourself think that perhaps in time
he would realize that he wasn't really tired,
just scared, and that he didn't want to be alone
any more than you did. he would brush
your face with his, his unshaven chin a stiff brush
against your skin. when he wasn't around,
you held that dream inside and felt less alone
--less hopeless. a life without the hurt
of a love dulled by fear...no matter how tired
you were, that thought made you smile every time.
but gradually you have come to accept that time
does not heal all wounds. he'll probably never brush
away the heartsick creases from your tired
forehead. these days he isn't even really around
to hold you or comfort you when you hurt.
these days you cry alone.
you feel alone all the time.
it will always hurt, but you'll just brush
the pain aside. if he's around, you'll just say you're tired.
Poetry by protean
Read 653 times
Written on 2010-05-30 at 21:25
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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