|
 Menu
|
|
|
|
|
Social
|
|
|
|
|
Bittersweet
Contributed by
ben
on
Thursday, 17th October 2002 @ 08:30:00 AM in AEST
Topic:
LostLove
|
The problem with you
is you can’t take life,
make life,
so you fake life.
Turn everything around you
into an illusion of what’s real.
But it’s not real.
Can’t you feel?
You don’t like truth cos it hurts,
and when you’re told, you look at me
like dirt,
try to escape or ignore it,
implore it
to go away.
But beneath,
underneath your large
impossible mirage,
it lingers.
Look at your fingers.
They shake when you hear.
A sheer
kind of fear
envelopes you when I’m near.
In case I remind you,
you think if I find you
you’ll remember you’re really here.
You pretend you’re made of granite
or on another planet
Can’t be true can it?
Or aren’t you like the rest of us?
Different somehow
like an endangered species
preserving yourself even now,
For what?
I’ll tell you what.
You’re a silly cow.
You had everything with me
and you didn’t know it,
when I tried to show it
you recoiled from my touch.
Is it too much?
Or is it such
a hard thing for you
to do?
to give an explanation,
or more information
about why there was no
indication
to me of what you
wanted.
You kept quiet at night
in the hope that
I might
just disappear,
just go away
and you’d never have to say
what you’re feeling.
I’m still reeling.
Just don’t tell me you don’t need
anyone.
When you’re cut ,don’t you bleed?
I have a yearning,
a lust for learning
about you.
I have to confess,
it was hard
to second-guess
you all the time,
and I’ve disdain
for the pain
I felt
when you wouldn’t confide
in me,
so I went along for
the ride,
but never lied
to you
about what I thought.
Went to a great length
even when you told me
you thought
you were caught,
trapped,
sapped
of your strength.
I’ve come to realise
it’d be no surprise
if you blamed me for your dad.
But I had
nothing to do with his death,
didn’t engineer his terminal breath,
Did I?
Did I give the prognosis
of deep-veined thrombosis?,
or the diagnosis
of scirosis
of the liver?
Or murder him in cold blood?
do you think I would?
or even if I could?
Tell me please
If I injected him
with some terrible disease,
like legionnaires,
AIDS,
HIV.
Could that have been me?
Under oath I’d swear no
Trust me, I’m not a doctor
But you’ve no belief.
I’m too much of a bastard
to feel grief.
But I felt it too.
Felt I should hide it from you,
to give you some relief
from the pain
you were going through.
You’ve no idea.
You weren’t here
when your dad died
and I cried
myself to sleep,
because I felt I knew
him through you.
Hardly any of your family knew me.
that’s how you wanted it
to be.
Had no interaction
‘cos I was just a ‘great
distraction’
from the real world
woven perfectly into your figment
of the truth, you little girl.
What makes you think
you could play
with this twit
and get away
with it?
Eh?
Do you think I’m thick?
Can’t I see you
in your little clique?
Pulling the strings
to make things
difficult for me?
You make me sick,
and leave me to regret
the day we met,
and yet,
I love you.
Copyright ©
ben
... [
2002-10-17 08:30:00]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
Advertisments:
|
|
|
|
|
|
Sorry, comments are no longer allowed for anonymous, please register for a free membership to access this feature and more
|
|
All comments are owned by the poster. Your Poetry
Dot Com is not responsible for the content of any
comment.
That said, if you find an offensive comment, please
contact via the FeedBack Form with details, including poem title
etc.
|
|
|
Re: Bittersweet
(User Rating: 1 )
by addie on
Sunday, 20th October 2002 @ 04:33:46 AM AEST
(User
Info | Send
a Message)
|
it's actually bitterly sweet ... very good poem. .. keep it up
take care
addie |
|
|
|
· 
Poetry
Community
Members
Areas
Reference
Search
Top
Others
