“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Thursday, May 26, 2016
Chit for chat
You can keep your cloudless days
I prefer the truth.
Don't tell me about the clear blues
when I've been hazy grey.
Why waste our time-
why show me natural beauty-
when I am more of a metaphor...
You can take your warm sunshine
I was already too hot.
Leave me alone in the cold
where my heart feels homey.
Why talk to me about exotic places-
why try to fantasize about far away-
when I will always dwell in self-fulfilled...
You can give it up
holding others happy.
Don't tell me it was yours
when you've never had it.
Why keep saving everything for later-
why not save yourself-
when there's nothing left-now.
You can say you would
I will not say.
Don't think I might change my mind
when it's on too tight.
Why not convince
why not debate your own issues
while I'm sitting pretty writing poetry
not seeking what may be-
outside of me.
Image of painting by Laurits Andersen Ring (1908) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
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