Untitled Turmoil
By Jaclyn
([email protected], http://www.geocities.com/tinted_daylight)
Author's Notes: I have no idea where this poem came from. I'm not sure I even know entirely who it's about. There's definitely a bit of me in there, but only a bit. Actually, come to think of it....I think it's about a character in a story I wrote a few weeks ago! You know, I didn't figure that out 'til just now when I sat down to type this little preclude to the poem....odd....
*
The night is dark but my soul is warm.
I don't understand these words that
keep standing up in my head; I'm
not sure that I want to. The mystery
and the stunted bubble of joy that
rolls in my stomach could easily be
popped if you tell me that all of this
means nothing to you. Perhaps I
should stop talking; these are my
words, after all, and I wonder if
you've given me reason enough
to trust you with them. Sometimes
I envision myself as a steely woman,
strong enough to present you with
the knife in the back that you so deserve.
But your ghost might, in turn, kill me then,
and I'm not sure that I'm ready to die.
Perhaps tomorrow. For now, I'm content to
lie here, knotted in the sheets, and pretend
that I'll one day grow a little something
called bravery. Yes, I am happy: content to
lie here, lie here and lie to my writhing little heart.
*
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