PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

A word she says and doesn’t mean

And it doesn’t hurt, and that’s what I say,

But deep down it’s more than just a pinprick

It’s a huge gaping wound that she’s left

And

I can heal it up pretty well, but you wouldn’t know how I did it.

I cover it

You know

Cover it with a huge purple cloth

That could be enough material to drape over the entire world,

And yet, it fits perfectly on me.

So I cover myself with this blanket

And wrap it around me

Tight,

Letting nothing in and nothing out,

And the blanket stays, because I keep it there.

Blankets do not move.

And on the inside of my blanket, there is a little girl whose tear

I can see so perfectly as it glides

Slowly

Down the side of her face, and I hug her,

Because she is hearing harsh words,

And she has taken refuge in our purple covering.

We are sheltered,

Though not ignorant,

Months after months,

Speaking with the little girl,

I have learned much,

And have learned not to be afraid.

So I birth myself from the shield,

And look around with hurt eyes,

The sun is too bright

And the faces are too false,

And I look back to crawl in the blanket,

To see if the girl came out,

And not longer is she there,

No longer can she be seen

And the blanket is tattered

And I am alone

In front of plastic faces

And a luminous sun

And I am ready to be.