by Richard Vince

Dismissive eyes, wide with disdain:
I have been written off before
Getting a chance to be
Written in.

It’s like she’s a statue; a solid
Sculpture in smooth, hard,
Impenetrable marble.

Reality isn’t really here. This is
An echo of a bad dream, a mere
Reflection of a past that may or
May not have been the present,
Once upon a time.

She doesn’t even look quite
Human: a magazine cover in
Three dimensions, with everything
Too perfect, too flawless, too much
Like the embodiment of expectations.

Everything feels far away, and my
Head is not quite solid; it’s all
Clouds and stage flats, so she
Doesn’t look too incongruous.

She thinks she can read my mind,
But that book is closed today.
She thinks she knows me, but I am
Not the stereotype she’s thinking of.

Part of me wants to prove her right
To prove her wrong; to say
All the things she thinks I’m thinking
Just to show I’m not.

But my thoughts are elsewhere,
Far away where even I cannot reach.
She remains unchallenged; she is
Still trapped inside her shell.


Posted on 05/28/2014
Copyright © 2022 Richard Vince

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 06/19/14 at 02:03 AM

Excellent elaboration on the title, Richard. I really like how you let yourself go here, and allow the energy(s)to come in and write the poem.

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