Elucidating Questions

He turns it on as if it is a switch leading me in directions that make me think that maybe this time,

If only all I wanted was one perfect night.

He turns it off just as quickly, pointing fingers saying it’s my fault saying I am the one who has misunderstood he says it’s me

It’s not him.

But I’ve loved him in spite of the way he uses my body and then turns me out like a cheap whore and I must be cheap,

The cost of a smile and some words.

Easy.

Then comes the months afterwards the months that go on like years as I try to understand the phrase

Players only love you when they’re playing

And I try so hard to step out of stereotypes and the words spoken by voices hurt and assumptions but he looked at me like that and

He also spoke of who he would rather be with, he also never considers the mess he leaves me in

Why am I nothing to everyone why does no one see me?

Why does he leave me here day in and day out why did he never see me when I stood as close as I could and screamed

I love you

I need you

I want you close to me

No one heard.

Screaming into the emptiness left behind by the blue bird and the wolf.

He doesn’t see how it hurts to be unseen, yet having never experienced being unseen he could not dream to understand how it feels.

He doesn’t believe that it hurts to sit on in silence day in and day out never hearing the conversation of another not remembering how to speak.

He can’t see how he’s tearing me apart with every word that he doesn’t say to me silence to the left silence to the right

There’s no middle there’s nothing here just the soundless sound of silence.

On the edge of this never ending nothing.

No matter how I beg, or hold my breath, or wish and hope and cry,

I wake up the day after.

There is no one by my side, no one calling, no one waiting, no one has heard or seen or cares.

And it continues.

I wish I could understand how it is so easy to throw out a person.

Now I have

More holes. More words I already knew in a way I’d never heard but I already heard it and it was still beautiful and I

Now I have more holes.

The numbers matched and if everything else has been as it has been and I think and I keep running away from it because

I can’t do this alone.

Things unsaid so there’s no proof to point to but the truth within,

Knows what was heard regardless of the sharing of them and watching it happen just takes

Just makes it worse now.

Running to the sky, away I can’t do it I can’t stay if there’s nothing here that sees and wants to stay with me

Straight away.

I can’t do this again. Not to my self again.

Falling to the ground, I watch her drink as the birds sings alongside

The dropping

Tiny pin pricks, or a flood, the tapping on everything, a drop, or a river.

The serenity of a visitor with her hat pulled down over her face she smiles and whispers as she waves her cape

It brushes over the land, blots out the light to feed the beautiful life

She tells of things seen, watched from so far above, the frustration the sadness the beauty the love.

The visitor draws close and whispers one more thing seen, just the view from around and the places unseen.

The twitter of the birds and the drops of the blue on the green.

This one sounds like a drill Sargeant giving orders.

Perhaps it was his wedding day, he sounds very put out.

This constant overthrowing of a people, as if a people become less than people if they become

A people.

It will never connect, the looking at a person and seeing less than a person.

Every person is a person, feelings, emotions, heartbreak, struggle.

Seeing those who walk separate paths sent down those paths by hundreds of years of

Those people aren’t the same people, they deserve less.

It hasn’t changed.

We live in a society which still views some as less, we claim it is for survival.

We claim cultural and societal prevalence, we claim we have attained the best possible way of life, we claim anything else is less than.

It will never connect, looking at humanity in layers as if we are a pyramid of pyramids building pyramids.

Even the thought of this structure of structures created for no reason but to feed the top.

Those at the bottom are merely machines until they break and they are replaceable.

How could anyone believe that a human life is replaceable?

The words that should have been chosen to share with the ones who wouldn’t be able to hear them themselves,

Disappear into a fog of pages and ink spread out and rewritten centuries and again.

The same wrong words show up in a never ending wripple, it cannot be run away from, like a thread that pulls through every word.

Why or how don’t matter anymore, but they hide sometimes. These so called one hits. These ones that seem to have disappeared over time.

They fight, they climb into the same vehicle, they drive away.

It’s this strange return to this same place which should have been, if being honest and listening,

Abolished immediately.

Because he never wanted this to be our lives.