The Moth Diaries, Poetry
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Poem 29- My Name (9)
tried to paint this perfect life,
forcing it to make it work,
forcing it to enjoy.
but i can be so hard,
hard when a person cant feel your breath on their neck,
when you try and reach out to them.
when you try and tell them how the hell you are.
empathy is a great gift,
but only the talented weild it.
and few weild it well,
born to breed this evil spawn,
of anger and betrayal.
the climax, the peak of trust,
is but a dream in the eye of the dreamer.
if only you would speak to me,
showed me you felt my breath.
not knocking back as many pints as you can,
in an effort to loose my name.
you had it engraved into your heart,
it wont erode away so soon.
its going to take time, and its going to take patience.
to help you loose my name.
i look forward so much,
searching the horizen for a time
when i wont need to think, for a time when thinking will
but thinking is the enemy tonight,
showing me you are real,
confusing you with the false.
i can no longer distinguish a hug from a push away,
and this is empty in my head.
i can hear the echos of our love bed.
i am not afraid of the night,
nor am i afraid to lie awake and dream.
because i am not alone in myself.
© Lucy Griffin March05
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