We Loved The Thought of You.
Your head is full of doubt.
My world is crashing around me as my mouth fills with blood from trying not to speak.
Words escape my memory like a criminal, stealing thoughts from my pen—from my tongue—from my lips.
You taught me everything there is to know about sadness,
echoing I'm not good enough, telling me, I'm just a shadow of the person
you've become.
A pastor told me to not speak ill of the dead, so I'll pretend this is while you had breath in your cigarette coughing throat.
It's a Sunday. OK, well, it's Father's Day. You'd call me, hoping I'd wish you well. I did, but I never meant a word of it.
It was unavoidably dripping with sarcasm, but you pretended you didn't get it.
My kid's love me, you'd swear.
We loved the thought of you, not you.
(No, this is not about my father)
(© 2020 Andrew Cyr)
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The Lonely Position of Neutral
PoetryBen's throat cancer has returned. Living a lonely life, he found a woman he loves but finds out she's been unfaithful. Ben starts to think the lonely position of neutral isn't that bad. He writes poems and dialogue narratives. Will Ben survive cance...
