We sit and we stare
and we laugh at ourselves.
A retrospect that is yet to be
is poking us through the time-veil.
A lesson we don't grasp yet.
A reason.

Isn't there always a reason?

And we know it.
We know
soon, soon
this will all be over
we'll smile at prom
we'll hug at grad
we'll evaporate into the blue-collared masses.

We'll have coffee on March 20, year 2020.
When you're 32, 33
and the price has come
and you have showered yourselves with love
real love
and children that adore you
and fear me because I'm strange
new.

there will be an answer
theres always an answer
and we'll get it fixed when the sores subside.

When the gashes stitch themselves
when we learn our big lessons.

It's fear.
All of it.
Think about it.

It's not you.
It's not me.

Underneath this guise of conflict
of anger and bitterness directed
at world
eachother
school and focused into
angst
and teenaged
primadonna-ism
is a fear we've both accumulated
under all the layers.

Think about it.
We both feel pink
vulnerable
new and broken and spat on
because of this?
this?

We think we can blame this garish insecurity
this monstrous lack of our own self esteems
on eachother?

Let's fix it.
Beat the clock.
Compromise.
As much with ourselves as with eachother.
Let's bend in both directions.

Let's improve.

03/28/2005

Posted on 03/29/2005
Copyright © 2024 Trisha De Gracia