Poem: Not

I’m just reviewing my recent poetry. And considering how, when I’ve only just started to write again, after a good year or so of being frozen… It’s pretty dark.

My moods fluctuate alarmingly, as you know, or can imagine, if you ‘know me’ – but, I didn’t realise how ‘dark’ I was.

I worry that I’ll be alone forever, tormented by men forever. Never to be … normal (I did struggle to use a different word just then) and I actually wonder what that would be… ‘normal?’ Everything is so far removed from what ‘normal’ was.

Anyway:

Poem: Not

Warm hands held on a cold night
The stinging hotness of a slap
This is not a picture of love.

Midnight whispers cheek to cheek
Voices raised, mouths wide
This is not the sound of love.

Funny how a smile can miss the eyes
But shards of malice can chip the heart
A blindfold made of water, a soul torn apart

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One thought on “Poem: Not

  1. I really enjoyed your poem and see that this might be a very cathartic thing for you.

    Another thing is, “what is normal?” In my line of work, mental health, I challenge anyone who says they’re “normal”. Everyone faces ups and downs and some people are just better equipped to deal with these twists and turns.

    Hang in there and thank you for sharing.

    Cheers,
    David
    http://www.allthingsdepression.com

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