Slipping out of reach: My Will

Thu, 04/11/2019 - 22:34 -- daisys

Surprisingly, the sun nags at my feelings and dampens my mood.

With furrowed brows, I scrutinize the brand new face on my left side.

I don’t know your features, and now my memory blurs at the corners of our past conversations.

Strange features, strange voice, and surprisingly strange height.

You consistently pull false, ha-ha’s out of my mouth.

But, I only do it for the sake of my awkwardness.



You see, I thought that by making more conversation with you, my feelings would change.

Maybe, appearances do deceive, and at the core of you, there might reside a person interesting enough.

The strong, sturdy magnet, that out of nowhere pulls itself out of my body and always attaches too quickly, remains inside.

And, that eagerness that causes my heart beat erratically remains numb and lifeless.

Despite of my smiles and quiet teasing, I feel empty.

Although, it doesn’t end there.



Your small, precise eyes linger at places that I’ve always considered mine and mine only.

It’s as if I’m watching all of these red flags from above the clouds.

I should’ve driven off when you first gave me those horrible roses.

From the moment, I saw you I knew something strange and abnormal resided in you.

Though, I believe pity kept me by your side and kept my tongue moving.

Do, I percieve myself so low that now, I accept any boy who treats me makes the first move and appears well-manned?

I hear your words, and they transfer themselves as mumbles in my ear.

You ask me questions; and grow annoyed at my inattention to small details from your stories.

 But, I can’t help myself.



Throughout the entire date, I daydream about an idealized date with someone else.

I know, how horrible and cliché.

But, God it sucks.

It sucks when events present themselves backwards and in such a wrong, crooked way.

Only when I collapse on the couch and hear my mother yell and shake my head at my expense, do I realize the awfulness of the date.

We were both giving and receiving; isn’t this how it’s supposed to be?

But no, my responses were formed unconsciously and without purpose.

At least, this time, I didn’t choke another boy with my bold, impulsive feelings.


This poem is about: 
My community
My country
Our world


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