08-20-2012, 08:13 PM
How I despise you for your weakness.
You look to me for strength
but offer no return. You weep and wail
as though by tears emotion becomes
a tangible and treatable disease.
A slap across your pleading face
is what you need, to feel attended to;
like some sadistic pedant, I will not oblige.
Your whimpered calls in my safe time
disturb me when I wake. It is not the rousing
but more the insolence that so disgusts.
Who the hell are you? The ringing, buzzing phone
becomes a focus for my rage and hate.
You are expectant…a word from me
is what you need, to feel attended to;
but to disavow you, I will not speak .
The friends we had no longer call me up
to ask if you are there. I tell them all
the hell with you! I am better on my own.
Better than I was, that is, when I
was lonely yet you were in my skin.
Damn you for being by my side. That memory
is what you need, to feel attended to;
but to diminish you, I will not remember.
The notes you send are burned without
the dignity of ever being read.
Each flaming sheet I turn to ash, denying
you your futile wish to say you want die;
my only balm is not to touch you until then.
And even were you still and cold, I would not lay
a eulogy upon you , knowing this
is what you need, to feel attended to;
but to deliver you, I will love again.
tectak
august 2012
You look to me for strength
but offer no return. You weep and wail
as though by tears emotion becomes
a tangible and treatable disease.
A slap across your pleading face
is what you need, to feel attended to;
like some sadistic pedant, I will not oblige.
Your whimpered calls in my safe time
disturb me when I wake. It is not the rousing
but more the insolence that so disgusts.
Who the hell are you? The ringing, buzzing phone
becomes a focus for my rage and hate.
You are expectant…a word from me
is what you need, to feel attended to;
but to disavow you, I will not speak .
The friends we had no longer call me up
to ask if you are there. I tell them all
the hell with you! I am better on my own.
Better than I was, that is, when I
was lonely yet you were in my skin.
Damn you for being by my side. That memory
is what you need, to feel attended to;
but to diminish you, I will not remember.
The notes you send are burned without
the dignity of ever being read.
Each flaming sheet I turn to ash, denying
you your futile wish to say you want die;
my only balm is not to touch you until then.
And even were you still and cold, I would not lay
a eulogy upon you , knowing this
is what you need, to feel attended to;
but to deliver you, I will love again.
tectak
august 2012