Anything but a warm embrace- her words, her tone, I allow to gurgle through me like so many garbled voices crossing distant waters. Amidst the din, even her mask of blatant disapproval is rendered ineffective.
Weddings and funerals. It is what we had been reduced to. Even they grate on my already chaffed soul, as I anticipate the moments we will be forced to breathe the same air, smiling insufferably for the sake of appearances.
Blurred voices surround the wall of stone on which our ceaseless duel plays out. The silent precipice of no return. But no one seems to notice our stilted stances, or the fact we have worn our war faces to the party.
Then it hits me. This distaste we have for each other, may very well be the only thing we will ever share.. I savor the epiphany. Clutch it to my breast.
Much like I know there must have been a time, when she clutched me, her firstborn, to hers…
All but lost without you. As are you without me. But we know. Don’t we?
Grace, Charm, and Beauty The three graces escape me In mud covered boots *** To me, spring cleaning Means finding out what’s taken Root under the fridge *** Giai’s hot flashes Window panes on roller skates Her prerogative
Shall I continue? There are more where those came from. I’m game if you are.
He isn’t my type. I’m a mover, a shaker, a rocker, a punk. He’s a brainiac, a nerd, a techie, a geek. I live for the crowd, the chaos, the smoke, the applause. He lives for the scholarships, the level ups, the test scores, the hacks. He trips over my amplifier cord, opens his mouth, and music pours out:
“Awkward to a fault- Contents of a graceless life Spewed across the floor.”
No burlesque vocation, this monastic life. Avocation of rule in silence tread whilst physical pursuits renounced, spiritual devotions invoke mercy, since prayer and meditation fail to squelch- the itch of woolen robes.