Goodreads
del.icio.us
I thought it would be
like getting a tooth pulled by telling you
I had to let you go;
that your version of 'love'
was a pillow over my face,
but it actually didn't turn out so bad
you simply said 'I understand'
and walked away
and now I'm left wondering
if that softly-spoken, short and sweet answer
was the haft of a knife finally meeting the breastbone
and cleaving your world in two,
or if I really need to start looking over my shoulder
from now on
Some days it just feels like I'm
banging my head against the wall,
like repeating the same word over and over
until it no longer makes any sense
where I can even taste
the pit of my stomach bleeding,
and nothing I do will change any of that
sometimes the words I put on paper
almost look like a foreign language
but I keep the hand moving; the flow,
the connection of pen to paper almost like
blood through the veins, going somewhere
reaching something,
maybe not restoring any circulation or
making the heart beat
but it's still got an interesting rhythm all its own
Cynthia Ruth Lewis is 42, and is unfortunately ruled by her anger 80% of the time. Her work has appeared in Open Wide, Zygote In My Coffee, Underground Voices, Cherry Bleeds, and more. You can contact her at bookas6670@yahoo.com.