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the rage becomes us
by Ava Bluwe are separated by the tragedy between us
we linger outside each door, we don’t dare knock
we want to believe it’s just a pause,
just a moment before things are normal again
but your limp tells us otherwise
it tells us you’re carrying too much
and caring not enough
and the pills you pop are not for the actual pain
and i am not creating this in my head
i am telling our life story
violence has seemed to suit us
with its gnawing at our souls and
puncturing our fingers
it has brought passion when all was dead
and fire when all was lost
we cannot decide if it’s brought us love or hate
and we still sleep in the same bed
afraid one of us will kill the other while we sleep
you told me to write about it
and i am afraid writing about it makes it more real than it should be,
providing power to the already too powerful
and taking away things that are not there
you beat the wall with your legs at night
you wake up screaming
it’s always been like this, you’ve always held me as the killer
we pass each other in the hall,
glancing with the side of our eyes
but we don’t touch
we don’t really look at each other anymore
and my heart broke when you didn’t see how important the park was to me
you didn’t want to have a picnic
you carry your pain as the most delicate noose
and anything could help you jump from the chair
you will show me a fake smile
you will say there is nothing wrong, the smile is real
the love is there
i will quietly bow my head
and pretend i believe.
05/12/2010 Posted on 05/12/2010
Copyright © 2026 Ava Blu
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 05/12/10 at 06:14 PM A very nice write lady and it happens all too often. The straw finely breaks the camel's back and somehow it is the hardest thing in the world to fix. One felt as a rejection and it has gone on too long and it's over but everyone pretends it's not. |
| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 05/12/10 at 07:10 PM If this were a play or some other visual medium the setting would have to be in a small house or an apartment. There's a terrible sense of the claustrophobic that follows us through these grim, unhappy images. So great is this sense that it often makes the world seem much smaller than it actually is. That's a tremendous accomplishment to underline these powerful images and the usual brilliant voice. Just great writing. |
| Posted by Mary Frances Spencer on 05/13/10 at 05:49 AM You express the day-to-day isolation, frustration and angst so well here. Powerful yet sad at the same time! MFS |
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