I've broken this shell,
and now I'm out there,
naked.
I hope they won't see me.
Just you.
This unprotected flesh,
a sanguine beat,
of red flesh.
I hope they won't touch me.
Just you.
And yet,
every so often,
without a touch,
without a glance,
I shatter.
The wounds of decades,
the yolk of my
self imprisonment
can be seen.
(Not for you.)
The weight of disregard,
the yoke of my
fragile feelings,
can be felt.
(Not for you.)
And yet,
every so often,
still free,
still feeling,
I shatter.
You come,
like daybreak.
You leave,
like a winter storm.
And I live,
and I die,
hinging on your
revolution.
This piece is dedicated to and for @mamadini, for whom all my poetry flows
Thanks to all the Isle of Write members who gave me feedback and encouragement on this piece, and all the others.
Check out my latest pieces:
- After the Flood - A poem
- Reddit: An Attention-Based Economy
- Three Days' Longing - A poem.
art and flair courtesy of @PegasusPhysics
The image used is Guercino's Atlas Holding up the Celestial Globe (1646), and is public domain.
© Guy Shalev 2018.