My Poetry My Words
My Poetry My Words
I’ve got my poetry and my words
when understanding is fleeting
and in your shoes no one can stand
when heartbreak is so resounding
people can hear you coming before the train
my poetry my words
become a therapeutic massage soothing
while the pain is oozing onto ink-stained pages
or is that my mascara from my tearful stages
refusing to stop although I promised not
to cry anymore with
my poetry my words?
Too old for this melancholy I am
with no one to blame no one to damn
not innocence
not youth
nor being new to the game
this time both I’s
–wide open–
walked we
My poetry my words
must keep me strong
now that one of us is gone
from our love which still stands
although circumstances
beyond our control
won’t allow time’s sands
to continue this union so
like Narcissus I pine for an unrequited love while he...
(I shudder to think what he may be doing since he no
longer does it with me)
so I stand, stoop, lean,
position myself any way I can sometimes
holding barely each day to
each strand of thread
as I create singular memories
approaching life alone
sometimes with dread
mindful to maintain what has been there all along
faithful and strong never doing me wrong
I must cling to
my poetry my words
Myla Jones–2003
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