-1Cause and Effect

I fell in love with silence
when I was young;

used it,
as a powerful
quote -

four fingers
pull tight C's
together as though
my lack of words
is borrowed
from a greater source,

I
sight it, insightfully,

and this is not a love poem,
or a hate poem, a rape poem,
an in or out of shape poem.

It is a declaration
that my edges cannot be schooled convincingly;
even though, I let them take the shape of silence.
It is at times a zealous hush,
a violently raging whisper. Still.
And with a wisp I'll let it become a meek quiet.
Not quite there stare.
A glare peeking girlishly from deeper inside myself then I like to admit.

I've learned to love
the agony of thought,
hot and vengeful

let it fill me up deeply

a menace to my own parody.
Yet, this is not a caricature,
a fractured bone, confession,
or a lesson taught, or to be learned.

I want to say that I am more fiercely delicate then the echo of a thunder clap.
More enamored then a season full of two hands bonded together

(It was the shape of twenty fingertips never loosened,
a levy kissing unbroken shores).

I do want to say a lot of things.

I want to be comical,
lazy,
and unwavering.
I want to pull apart togetherness,
rebuild it,
to a structure of indecisive forthrightness.
I want to be an unapologetic mess by day
and a hardened know it all by night.

and if given the right second in time
when I let words languish from pink lips I'd say:

You hurt me, but I needed it.
You have a terrible starvation, and I feed it.

But, I don't, and I won't.

Politeness is a pity when pen and paper beckon,
and like I said this is not a love poem,
a woe-is-me poem,
silly girl younger in the summer air poem,
older naiveté,
the hit and miss of finding yourself
later then expected, and wishing that being given the chance
of a redo was not out of the question,

and did I mention that this is not a hate poem?

A disgrace,
chase,
or waste poem?

It's not an I hope you die in a catastrophic freak accident poem,
or I wish I had said the right things to you at the right time poem,

merely a deeper reflection
of myself then any mirror
could give me.

A portrait of my thoughts
for you to look upon and understand.
Stronger then the miles of bones
that make up my awkward shape
when I fell into your full speech.
Words heavy with tongue sloshing,
and agreed without thinking,
or blinking -
I was, to be honest sinking

inside the notion of a silence that I fell in love with when I was young.

It's a lengthy declaration,
multi-marginal, and semi-sweet.