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In Which the Tragic Heroine Finally Lets Go:
by Aaron BlairJonathan, I must admit
the allure here is tragedy,
the drama queen side of
me holding court over
every little thing that makes
sense. If pain is so beautiful
then why does it hurt, why
is it not glittery and shiny
instead of bloody brown and red?
If I were to find you, stranded
on one of my mind's back roads,
flat tire and shirt off, lust over
the way your bones battle
to be out from under your skin,
I probably wouldn't recognize you.
I probably wouldn't recognize myself.
My hair's grown back since the
last time. My scars have turned
that invisible shade of white.
You can't be the same person
if what you were was never a
person anyway. You are out
from under it. Free to be real
instead of a statue, frozen in
some unbearably sad position,
a tribute to tragic lovers everywhere. 11/08/2004 Author's Note: It's actually been a while since I did, but I hadn't written a poem about it yet. And you know nothing ever completely happens until you write a poem about it. If you're lame.
Posted on 11/08/2004
Copyright © 2025 Aaron Blair
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 11/08/04 at 07:38 PM Thought provoking piece, especially the question of pain being so beautiful, which to me isn't except to remind us of our frailty and hopefully teaches us a lesson to avoid it if possible in the future. Kudos! |
| Posted by Max Bouillet on 11/09/04 at 02:59 AM Powerful scene with intense word choice that leaves an impactful resonance within the reader.... haunting little memory echo that gives me the chills. Great read. |
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