THIS IS LIVING

So this is anger?
This bland, cold thing?
Or is it? Maybe it is pain,
Locked deep, delayed like morphine
For old wounds and fresh scars?
Gosh! I don't know anymore.
Where is work? I need to work
To forget, to push to the side,
To leave behind, to... just forget.
Simple words, simple actions
Like think, sleep, eat, chat, smile are good.

Yes, smile like the sky is blue
And this damp is not tears but rain.
These concepts do not become me.
I must have failed somewhere,
Some distant deed in some faded time
But can I trust to the past for truth?
I will not be muttered at or mocked!
Then again, what is there to mock?
Have I not given all of me
Without rancour without tears?
I should step away from that tender spot,
Yet it may not hurt as much, who knows?
This is not pain, it is not anger.

Could it be sadness or shame?
It is hard to decipher these things
When your tongue tastes like ash
And your thoughts tumble and swirl
With bitter memories and the echoes of time.
Can I be angry and sad?
Do I have the privilege to judge actions
Which are none of my doing.
I should sleep before my thoughts run
And tear themselves from my teeth.
Ha! Little things like tears seem difficult now.
Maybe I spent them all like coins
On other sadder moments, at least
That was what they felt like then;
Like my heart sought to flee my ribs,
My breath frozen in my lungs.

This cold confusion baffles me.
Maybe I should rail a little; scream, curse,
Throw a picture or a book at the wall.
My emotions are stunted, I think.
I should forget and move from this
But look at me. See the parts that hurt.
How do I turn away from all of this
Without letting go of something that I once cherished?
This is not pain or anger. It is not sadness as such either.
Maybe you can give it a name.
I tire of all of this. Where is my phone?
Maybe you will distract me with fine words.
I can't weep for you or for me. Is it not better to be still then?

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_{Unsplash:Prince Akash}

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I wrote this for a friend who was trying to interpret her emotions after getting news from home. I realised that no two pains are the same and sometimes we don't even know what pain feels like.

©warpedpoetic, 2019.