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Absence

by Jayme L Helmick

she hasn't spoken to me in so long
of if she has, I haven't needed to listen:
that muse who sat at my elbow, smoking my cigarettes
downing my vodka by the tumblerful
drunk on the whinings of egotism and youth

she cackles in her corner, waiting for the day
when I will tug her back out into the spotlight
a suitable vehicle for grandiose melancholy
and self-induced heartache
herself bearing the shroud of guilt to
drape across my weary back

but the longer she sits, the more stale she becomes
and her cackling is a death rattle
as she cedes her place of honor to
Someone lighter
Someone more hopeful, more free
a Someone who does not cast a cloak of recrimination
and offers me wings to borrow
until mine finish growing in

maybe it's just that I don't know who I am anymore
without the darkness that so often coiled around my heart
squeezing the life from the inside out

or maybe it's just that I'm happier now than I've ever been
at peace with who I've become
content with what I've been given

without the chains of a muse who feasted on darkness




05/26/2007

Posted on 05/26/2007
Copyright © 2024 Jayme L Helmick

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Meagan Green on 05/27/07 at 01:22 AM

wow.

Posted by Meghan Helmich on 05/23/12 at 07:37 PM

I know this feeling. It seems so much more difficult to be creative when I'm not depressed lol I enjoyed this!

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