Glass Eyes

Light outside snapped and dipped

around the old stone 

and the

clipped clean manicured lawn.

i had to look up to meet your wild hurt gaze

your fury at the top of the staircase

above me 

i had to look up to see your yellow hair 

around your face, in needle thin rays of light

strobing out, away

picking up the little currents of your emotions like electricity

 

i met her silent confrontation with my own, the last day.

my own quiet, silent plea

to please, understand me.

i collect your things, I collected them

to understand how we could be so different

 

The things didn't last, but the image of your yellow hair and the betrayal

It has.

This poem is about: 
My community
My country
Our world
Guide that inspired this poem: 
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

Comments

gwendolynpalmer

Good afternoon!

I really enjoyed the act of writing this poem. I find that through reading poetry, I am able to express parts of myself that I wouldn't otherwise be able to fully articulate with the standard sentence structure. I have never apologized to this person, or even acknowledged to them that I did anything wrong. It's too late now, but writing this has allowed me to package up how I'm feeling and send it off, without carrying it with me.

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