Is she worth a poem?
Either I have enough love or she has enough
hatred, but lukewarm or apathy doesn’t make
for a good recipe, but it looks like it’s too
late so now the only question is “the degree?”
Better yet, I’ll just write it and in the end you
tell me.
It began with me liking the sound of her voice
Intelligent gentleness best describes the thing
that didn’t often ring because she didn’t want
anyone to know her outside of anyone
who already knew her and it wasn’t just me
it was all of society. When I am left
with a mystery, I fill in the history
and it must have been uncomfortable that I
looked at her like I knew her better than anyone
else in the world. And the hurt when she so often
pulled away, and my reaction “Don’t you know me!”
Well, not out loud, that would have confused her even
more, but in my head we were planning on going
to a play sometime next month, after all when you
actually know each other…there’s plans of some sort.
THE EXILE OBSERVER 