Leave me on a desserted island with nothing but a pen and a piece of paper; with those, I shall create myself another world.

Saturday, January 14, 2012

The Perfect Act

I played a game of make believe
to convince myself I didn't care
if you weren't there
but I do...
And I ache at the thought of parting you.
I drew a smile and painted rosy cheeks
to tell myself I'd be happy,
that this would do us good
but I don't know if it would
and I dont know if I should
keep faking to divert the attention away
off my breaking heart.
My days they are full with sunshine you know -
one that i colored so well -
can you tell
that my days are a living hell
at the thought of leaving you?
Can you see
the dagger stab its way through me
or is my smile so bright
shedding all the light
on emotions unreal?
Can you feel me?
Do you hear the voice I have silenced,
the cry I have muted,
the million quiet words that refuted
everything I do or say?
I would not blame you.
For even to me, its not clear as day;
To the contrary
I, myself, have begun to believe
a lie that I told in order not to have you bothered
or smothered
or feel like I am a mother who can't bear to leave her child
who can not wait to leave his guardian.
I believed until i remembered
the one thing i can not bear to part with -
the sight of your face...
your smile...
thats when it all compiled
sending a shimmering drop
down my dry face
to soften all the roughness
I have embraced
To remind me that i am not of stone
That i am afraid -
Not of where I'm going
nor of what we will be doing,
but of existing without you.

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