Close My Eyes
I close my eyes just to look at you
Ignore the smoke
and create the vision I think I should have of you
Then the smoke rises
And I have to open my eyes
Just to squint out the teats
Now the vision of you I created
Is blurred by saltwater.
No, this is not the ocean.
We are not sailors.
I wish it would dry up.
I'm writing music for my head to hear
To fill the spaces I never heard you say I love you
And I'm not even musically-talented.
My brain is just so empty without the fake-tunes.
On the days I can't write my own music
or sing my own song,
I forget there was music at all
since the beginning of time,
And I pretend that emptiness is a normal feeling
Out of the hollow spaces
Might come something magical.
Maybe once silence was golden
But in my world silence rots like unwanted apples
Till the stench grows rank with decay
And I decide my obnoxious cymbals
Are better than no sound at all.
I crank up the volume to drown out the world
But they don't seem to notice
They are the reason for my distance--not me!
I've painted over the window to my house
Now the only light that gets through
Is just intrusive
But I don't have the courage to draw the curtains
So some pesky light always creeps
Playing the savior.
Copyright © Brooke Wolfe | Year Posted 2007
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