Morgan Tate Poet Free verse

Play, Pause

i’m splitting at the seams.

torn,

one arm gently pulls, the other yanks-

violently.

never a moment of silent bliss,

i bite my lip until crimson liquid seeps out the corners of my mouth

and drips

staining my peplum top.

distant memories creep into my mind to warn of the shame i’ll find

in this game of hide-and-seek

if i let them see that my smile isn’t real

and my blood prefers to stay in my veins.

So I don’t stop.

I move my lips into position

and wipe the blood from my chin.

And press ‘play’ on the cassette tape that reads:

"of course I’m happy",

because I can’t form those words myself.

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Kathryn Collins October 31, 2013 at 8:48 AM Morgan - Splitting at the seams. Your images - the blood on the lips - keep my blood in my veins. There are so many of us great pretenders, maybe all of us? beautiful poetry. lvoe, Kathy