Anguish.
He looks at her and
she glances away.
Both know that there is nothing
left to say.
Tears collect in her eyes
It doesn’t hurt because they can’t
understand me…
So why?
He crouches by her
shivering form.
This was a girl not
of the norm.
He is well aware that
she could’ve been his storm,
wreak havoc upon him,
and render him deformed.
But his smile was still wry.
With these thoughts in mind,
he reaches out, touches her hair,
hands gentle, kind.
Now he realizes that he does care
for this girl, anguished, pale and fair.
This was a side he could stand by.
She speaks, finally,
“It hurts.
Not because they can’t
understand me—”
“But because they can’t
be bothered to try.”
He completes her thoughts, with a sigh.
These were the only
truthful words he had ever
uttered, the first time
he had not lied.
Spoken only to
simply, honestly, sincerely
answer
her anguished cry.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Scandals
PoetryPoetry, filled with angst, maybe some bittersweet ones, perhaps happy, if I actually get there. Relationships, friendships, memories and yearnings for things long gone and long lost. A virtual anthology of the scandals these poems are, at your finge...
