AC (12-16-1981 DOD: everyday / )

Falling Short

I remember now,
how my dirty ideas stood on the threshold of your eyes
and how you asked me to clean the words
before you could let them inside.

so I did, I washed the sentences with my tongue, l
icking them off like a mother beast does
her new-born beastly child.
my meanings, after all, belonged better out in the wild.

you rebuked them for their sour flavor,
saying how unfit they were for you to devour.

never, in my life had I
regretted something so much:
letting you come inside my mind
to approve of the wall-paper.

it was only your voice I longed to hear
praising my insignificant labor.
and I wonder now if you understand
how it murder me to watch your eyes roll in disgust
as you said: ' this is blaspheme! '
in reference to something
I had titled ' love'

User Rating: 4,3 / 5 ( 7 votes ) 3

Comments (3)

And I understand that sticks and stones can hurt. Joe
This poem has the beautiful intensity of a fragile soul, Which is what a true poet is; and when our words are treated Without an honest attempt for understanding, it feels like murder, Good write, Amberlee.
No comments for this one? I find it beautiful, wonderful, crystal-clear. A wonderful description of an experience we've all had, of misplaced trust. A couple spelling errors or typos, 'blasphemy', for one. (as learned about my own work, typos stop the flow of a mind contemplating the poem, they interrupt the continuity.)