Image by Michele Meister

The time will come when we’ll meet
dressed in black, clasping our hands
wiping our eyes, trying to keep calm
we won’t know where to look or what to say
we’ll stay silent and solemn
in the big room full of people
I’ll try to hide among the crowd
I’ll avoid to look, I’ll do a trick and disappear
I’ll look in one spot only and the air will swallow me
I’ll fold my presence and put it in my bag.

I’ll stop the car with no excuse or reason
I’ll slam the door and walk away
I am entitled to my pain
I won’t share it now…with you
you can be how you’ve always been
and I’ll be alone to cradle my pain and sow my tears
to bury my hopes among the grass and the heavy steps.

I’ll leave my perfume behind
I’ll hang my scarf on a tree
I’ll forget my sight on the ground
I’ll lose my words among the seats
I‘ll try to smile on my way out
and all the while you’ll be following me
waiting for the right time to offer your help.

No help. Thank you. No need. I am fine.
I own this pain. You may leave now.
I’ll be fine. With or without.
But thank you for asking.

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2 Responses to Entitled

  1. chaeran89 says:

    I like this blog, because I like writing poetry.
    thanks if pleased stopped at my place

  2. Thanks. Looking forward reading your poems in English.

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