She Don’t Cry

Untitled

I never cry

Because they don’t see me crying;

And I don’t hurt-

My pain ain’t physical,

So it don’t count.

 

Then there is the hour,

When I hug my bedroom-

Weeping on the pillow’s shoulder,

Talking with the molecules of air floating

In the dark.

 

But, the room can’t hug me back-

And the pillow’s shoulder sags,

Weighted down with tears.

The air’s too busy to even echo my ache.

 

When?

Is it out there?

No, is HE out there?

Is anyone out there?

God is-

But sometimes too out there it seems.

 

It’s quiet around me,

The silent entrance of too-lateness

Seeps under the door—

An odorless monoxide of despair.

 

What is it that I am waiting for?

Has it already ended?

Why does everyone else know—

Except me?

 

It still hurts,

Even after I ate the anesthetic—

You know, the chocolate novocain

And sugar injections.

 

Tell me,

Like everyone else did when I was a kid,

That Santa Claus’s zip code is in the North Pole,

That the tooth fairy is not my mother,

That happiness is not the Lochness monster, (seen by only the insane).

 

Accept it,

Like everyone else did when I was a kid,

That I throw myself on the floor and shout,

That even then, I can blackmail you to still love me,

That my tantrums are colorful cartwheels of rational thought.

 

But, you can’t just do that—

I know.

That’s why I don’t wear my inside out.

That’s why you don’t see me hurt,

Cry,

Feel.

 

That’s why I embrace the walls,

Lean on flimsy linen shoulders,

Converse with voiceless gases.

 

Because they cannot love me,

And they cannot not love me.

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2 thoughts on “She Don’t Cry

  1. Pingback: Spring! – A Saturday Poetry Post | Lyrical Anarchy

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