The Rift Building Between Us

There's nothing so much that scares me more,

Than the soft and prickly things that start small,

In the cracks of humanity, growing like sponges,

Until the cracks are filled, with bitter grapes.

 

After you've been capsized, and you don't want to talk about it,

We sit silently at the dinner table, and, for a second, I believe you,

When you say that you're not bothered- but, eventually I see you,

In the light of abjugations, emotional castration.

 

Have things been getting scary back home in the wastelands?

Are your fingers going numb, dear? Just smile if you can hear me.

Has it rotted into tragedy, your undermining everything?

Are you on the up-hill, or are you just avoiding me?

 

You're captured like eternity, the backdrop, a clean table.

I hear you cutting ties again, thinking I'm not listening.

Would feeling something kill you? Are you just feeling nervous?

You tell me you'll pick up the check, and we continue to avoid it.

 

But your face is speaking volumes, of the anguish that you live in,

And I just want to apologise but I cannot find a reason.

Your heart's been stolen once or twice, but even that's too many times.

I just want to hold you, protect you from the outside.

 

But you don’t want to talk to me; you watch the sky fall calmly,

Please just let me in, now; even a little bit is helpful, and I really want to tell you,

What I’d do to those who’ve hurt you, if I ever got my hands on them.

Your hands soften my anger, like a gentle breeze to a candle.

 

As you lie there sleeping, I wonder what you’re thinking, try to find a way,

Into your dreams, but it doesn’t seem to be working. So I wrap my arms around you.

Say everything is okay, in hopes you may believe me; I hope you do not hate me

For meddling and bugging you, but your glance reassures me.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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