October 08, 2005

I ran up the down escalator the other night. It was tough, but invigorating.

I hate poetry. It's too cryptic. But I wrote three poems Friday morning...

#1
Contortion under the sheets
Fallen tears and blushing flesh
Fleeting contemplations
Searching for a meaning
Why, oh why
Do you make me feel this way?
Transforming into someone
I don't want to be
I am my own person
You don't know me
You don't know...
And apparently -
You'll never know...

#2
A heavy heart
Anchors me
And guilt has overcome
Never was
My intent
To ruin all the fun
For Us.
Like no other
You've been there
Through all the pain and tears
And one can only
Hope and pray
For forgiveness
Except I don't pray
No more smoke
No more mirrors
For Us.

#3
It's not my own heart
With which I am
Concerned,
But that of you and him and she
I have made you hate your home
It's unfair, what I did
Despite any moral objection,
Not in the wrong
But not in the right
I'm stuck in the middle
With you.

Lisa blogged at 4:41 PM.
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