My Body Betrays Me When I Confess

A poem of unrequited love

My body betrays me

When I confess.

It starts with my tongue,

Uncurling, unfurling, and releasing the words

That they have held for so long.                        

It cackles and slithers back into my mouth.

The rest of me is defenseless.                   

                          

My throat is in my stomach,     

My stomach has fallen to the ground.

My heart pounds against my chest,

Thudding a million miles per hour.

My thoughts flutter out of my ears                                     

And float out into nothingness.

Their kiss of death was expected though,                 

Even after I made them practice this endlessly.

Either my body sinks lower to the ground

Or the whole world gets three times larger.

Her eyes pierce me like poison darts

And strip away every layer of my skin,

While I stand there helplessly, wordlessly, stupidly.

I try to run and hide, but my feet shake their heads.

They refuse to leave this vulnerable spot.

Soon my hands start shaking

And I want to slap them

But it’s impossible when they are trembling like that.               

 

Nothing compares to the betrayal of the ears though.

They could lock themselves up and shut everything out.

But they let it in.

They let it all in.

From the second they hear it,

They run deep into my head,

Past the pools of memories,

Over hills of knowledge,

And deliver the message to my brain

That rips my heart in half.

 

Reviews

[Eric]

Great title -- it's why I stopped in to read some of your work. You have a way with titles.

I like the the bit about ears "letting it all in."

Eric