by V. Artemis Reyd
Saturday, March 13, 2004
Rated "PG" by the Author.
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"Is it enough?" the little voice whispers,
its words like silvered barbs through me.
I repress the desire to curl up,
knees to chest, in a tight fetal ball;
what would be the point?
My fingers sculpt the empty air before me,
painting the gentle slope of your face
into vivid existence within my mind's eye.
A deep thrumming plays upon my heartstrings,
a haunting melody for the man I can't have.
"If he loves you," it begins again,
and I scream inside, my angst echoing
through the endless caverns of my being,
each ricochet a stinging blow;
I shove the tears, and the voice, away.
I feel his heat against my skin,
like a ghost unwilling to leave its haunt,
and I close my eyes to bring him closer,
to wrap his lingering essence around me,
like an ethereal security blanket.
"If you love him..." The voice won't fade,
and dark doubt clings like ichor to flesh.
I walked into this relationship aware,
knowing the labyrinth that lay before me;
I cannot claim any ignorance
Woe seeks to sate my lonliness,
diluting the strength I hold within;
I am torn between tantrum and tragedy.
My frustration will not return him to me;
my agony cannot sooth my bitter turbulence.
"Is it enough?" It enunciates each syllable,
to savor the impending pain they would cause me.
I cringe against the shards but feel none,
and with wide-eyed realization, I smile.
I will survive this; it is more than enough.