Running Away

Somebody yells

Glass hurls into a wall

Hands draw up;

a half-hearted attempt at a protection

that shouldn't be needed.

                                                                 

                                                              I am standing on a lapping beach.

                                                              Edgar Allen Poe's beach.

                                                              The salty, humid, dingy sky-

                                                              Somehow, I feel like I am not alone.

                                                              The kicking, beating, clenching waves-

                                                              This is better. I am sharing a burden.

                                                              Do I really have to go back?

Bunched in the corner

Face concealed

Ignore the tears

Ignore the weakness.

                                                              I am in that lighted room

                                                              Next to that caged bird.

                                                              Its vibrant chirping livens me

                                                              Reminds me of desire.

                                                              Is it selfish that I keep watching? 

Car runs away.

Can't beg it back.

Don't want to admit.

Being left behind.

                                                              I remember Pablo Neruda.

                                                              And how he warns anyone off

                                                              Making sure they know he will forget them

                                                              Before they have the chance to leave him.

                                                              His words are so confident...

                                                              But their speaker- he sounds like

                                                              Someone who just wants to protect his heart

                                                              It's a disclaimer.

                                                              I don't want to live with a disclaimer.

                                                              I don't want a half-hearted attempt

                                                              at a protection that shouldn't be needed. 

Someone is coming.

Grimace-twisted expression.

Muddled hair; sweat from effort.

I have forgetten that I am not

an exclusive member to pain.

It is ok. 

We're both breathing.

Just keep reading.

This poem is about: 
Our world
Guide that inspired this poem: 

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741