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cruel

Contributed by me on Sunday, 4th January 2004 @ 10:46:35 AM in AEST
Topic: oops

I was very cruel last night.
Looking up from her pillow she says:
“Do you have something against me?”
Did my words haunt her dreams?
The guilt destroys me,
but the anger remains
potent and poisonous.
It tastes bitter on my lips,
and in my words.
“Good-morning,” I say
and go to brush my teeth.
I could not lie
although she needs it.
I am intoxicated with my own venom.
I’ve held it inside,
but it escapes in weak moments,
the WRONG moments,
when a song, or thought summons my tears.
It’s never the truth I speak,
because I am not strong enough.
I hide it behind my eyes,
but there it shows,
and I slip the poison in my words.
“Listen,” I said yesterday,
“to what I’m not saying.”
She desperately wants to understand me.
“That’s very poetic,” she said weakly,
disappearing almost,
becoming an insulted shadow.
“Didn’t you know? I’m a poet.”
Her desperate eyes followed me around the kitchen,
waiting for me.
I hated her!
I’m ashamed and hateful.
I can’t say what I mean.
I hide it.
I try to be perfect,
while in my mind the hatred burns ferociously.
Then, in my weak moments,
I deliver these little murders,
beautiful performances.
I can’t catch my breath
or dry these selfish tears.
I isolate myself,
and become completely self-absorbed.
She said two jobs will be too much,
and I returned,
“Actually, I already have 4 or 5 jobs....”
A calculated accusation.
I looked right through her.
“You always helped fold laundry,
and did whatever you could manage,
even when you were little.”
She offered appreciation,
but I could not accept it.
“I guess I was always a little fool.”
With a swift switch of the wrist,
I have committed another
excellently executed little murder.
I made a graceful exit
holding the dagger in my hands,
dripping blood on the freshly-vacuumed carpet.
Her eyes must have followed me out,
still loving me...

Copyright Â© me ... [ 2004-01-04 10:46:35]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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