What? Why are you acting so melancholy today, Violet? Tell me your heart. I want to hear your thoughts.
“Do you really? I am not thinking anything important.” She laughed.
“It’s okay you can tell me anything.”
Cell phone rings and person leaves the room. Violet sits in a chair staring into a mirror. She wears a nightgown and has long black curly hair. She looks beautiful, too beautiful to be real–angelic. Her pale skin compliments the long, white, gown-like nightgown. Her shoulders are bare. She sits like a princess in love with a beggar. She looks as though she could never be touched by anything happening around her. She looks off into no one’s eyes and begins to speak.
“What am I really?
Sometimes i feel like
one finite point
in between two infinite oceans
of thought and life.
I am a spec
trying to choose a world,
but I won’t look one in the face.
I have no soul to look with.
I have no thoughts to think.
Still nothing to offer.
Still nothing to give.
Everything to happen.
The one inch that is myself
that just won’t leave kills me!
I don’t know if I’m clinging to it
or begging someone to put me out of my misery.
People call me vivacious and bubbly,
but when they read…
There is another me.
Maybe not everyone sees…
who I am.
Maybe no one reads my hunching shoulders
and modesty as a cloak to remain obsolete.
AND YET!!!!
They all fall in love!
They fall hard…
He says I’m the best person he knows.
He says he’s never been with anyone like me.
He says he likes me cause I have so few problems, no baggage.
And on and on and on
down the line.
They all want me…
ME.
But I don’t understand why…
I don’t understand many things.
I don’t understand why anyone wants
me.
As a daughter. As a lover. As a friend.
Why do I mean something to someone?
I’m really nothing, you know?
I’m not the smart sibling.
I’m not the nice girl…
I’m not the good kid.
I’m not really much of anything.
I’m just somewhere in between
trying to find a way into heaven.
Well not really.
I’m just a melancholy poet
trying to force her way through art and life.
Another day another poem.
The dollars come later.
They mean something,
but not the same thing to everyone.
They mean something much different
to me than to you.
You are a lover
and I an anti-confrontation fighter.
See the absurdity?
See the humanity?
See what you can’t?
That’s cause nothing is there.
There’s nothing here to give anyone.
There never has been.
I don’t get why people mistake me
for something I wish I was.
They mistake me for my hopes.
Why can’t I just have the hard life
full of frustration that I choose?
Why do you all want some good life…
for me?
Well at least he gets me…
There’s nothing more anyone in this world can give me.
Just a moment of understanding.
A moment of holding the same thoughts and movements.
Give me your love and I’ll give you my lies.
Again and again and again.
All the lies all at once.
Just add it to the kisses I did or didn’t give.
Again and again and again.
Do You Love These Words? 