Distant

I sit in the corner,

Hazel eyes glazed over,

Gazing through yellowed walls.

In and out of focus…

They’re some self-correcting camera lens.

 

It is you that I really see

Swirling around in my head,

Unapologetic and consuming.

Always there,

But you never see me.

 

Your eyes scrape over me,

In one brutal, swift sweep

Tearing jagged, shallow wounds.

I’d prefer a stab...

Then I could be your center.

 

My corner is dark now,

And trance slips away like satin

Plunging me into a fevered sleep.

I am plagued with visions of you,

How you spirit away.

 

Such is the curse of those

Who fall in love with the Distant.

Reviews

[Rocans]

This is quite an entertaining poem. I like the atmosphere you create with your words...almost dark morbid and morose. I particularly like your third stanza, I like the correlation between the emotional blow of being ignored and actual physical pain. I like it. Thanks for sharing