13.3k views, 2xBest Poetry Period. A nothing from nowhere cast words to a world wide wind. |
She was talking tattoos and indirectly said, "Does Brian have a tat?" to which I responded mine were scars from a reckless life chasing balls, colliding with obstacles but never fists, which I regretted, because it is what I think she would have admired most. My skin is pure and cut, muscles running deep, which she may have acknowledged but didn't seem to take in. My blue eyes always intense could have revealed a moody one, filled with angst to pain (but soft for her), notes from my soul fill with refrains never sung to her -- because she was looking the other way, studding her nose daily, killing pain with weed and beer nightly, dancing until she had to be carried off, staggering out night clubs and cars to places now very far (and warm) from where we once enjoyed a charade. She chirped and I tuned in, hoping to reveal a side she couldn't possibly fathom existed in a tortured boy masquerading as a man. We'll never come to that bridge, though. I sing each night and day away as if she will one day realize what she neglected to hear. 4.20.21 Not an unrequited love poem...just something I wrote about a seven year old memory of someone who teased when she touched but never truly sought the heart of a man, which might have been deeper than she could have understood. and if she would ask me now, get to really know me rather than employ the generational stereotypes, she'd see dimensions of a wonderful journey. |