I fell in love with her world. Through her eyes—

my vision was tunneled from obvious lies.

Estranged from reality I dug in deep,

deeper than any hole, deeper than sleep.

My soul caressed with the atrophy of thought,

where everything tumults into a vacuum

My web of consciousness endured as skewed,

my waning notions fell into hers, imbued.

The mirror’s likeness flaunted a different face

One that replaced my own in sick disgrace

This masquerade is what I tried to hide,

my angels tardy while my worlds collide.

My muse adapted to his darkened bend,

Where he hunkered down, tried to comprehend

Not once before did we own the back seat,

Not once before were we made to retreat.

How wilted roses still can scar the brain

Into her thorny hands, my life force drained.

My memories in disappearing ink,

my patience reappearing at the brink.

The silence haunts me within the noise

I’m screaming loudly with my inner voice.

But no one hears me, encircled by walls,

knees broken from praying, I can’t stand tall.

So I scream, knowing my words go unheard.

Do I leave? Turn the doorknob, how absurd…

Is it that simple to just up and leave?

…the life of memories that she has aggrieved.

Tattered relics remain in cognition,

traces of hints, bits of admonition,

the echoes I hear, of my now oldest friends,

the warnings their words were meant to portend.

How foolish I was, how smitten my mind

I saw it in front of me, and yet I was blind.

I’ve listened and written about this position,

This toxic prison where most keep their distance

Where thoughts are obscured, with her and my vision,

And I breathe in the clouds of thick indecision

As the blind lead the blind, right into division,

Then out came her ruse, in spotless precision.

I sat there bewildered, perplexed by this gall

Her words were quite witty, but sick overall

She twisted and mangled all things that were pure

in a way her position was still reassured

Though sex was like a fire, wild and raging

The allure died quickly with patience still fading.

I sat there waiting for my face to stop raining

As slowly my heart was breaking from the aching.

The silence was scathing, a contagion

And I couldn’t bring myself to be courageous

So I tipped my head in utter frustration

Hoping the hours and minutes would hasten

In sleep the relation-ships would sail away

And me on an island where palm trees would sway

I pray for that day to come show its face

And I’d leave this nightmare, gone with no trace.

But like the kid who burnt his hand on the stove,

my position was there, my humble abode.

With my hand firmly planted and burnt yet again,

I have to get out! If not now, well then when?

Comments

Paul Neglia (author) from Poughkeepsie, NY USA on December 23, 2018:

Thank you so much Jean. Im glad you liked this, and i hope so :)

Jean Sams from Philippines on December 23, 2018:

This is a wonderful poem. Will surely read more of your poems. :)

Paul Neglia (author) from Poughkeepsie, NY USA on December 21, 2018:

Thank you so much for your kind words Louise.

Louise Powles from Norfolk, England on December 21, 2018:

That is a lovely poem, Paul. I look forward to reading more of your poetry.

Paul Neglia (author) from Poughkeepsie, NY USA on December 18, 2018:

Wow. Lol. I started reading it like The Night Before Christmas thats funny. Thank you John for your kind words.

John Hansen from Queensland Australia on December 18, 2018:

Amazing work, Paul. I guess it's just the fact that Christmas is approaching....but the meter and rhyme of this reminded me of The Night Before Christmas lol. Certainly, a very different theme though. I loved it.