What I do . . .

March 15, 2011
I would scream

I would cry

I would pound the ground
In my fear

In my frustration

In my sadness
But I don’t . . .

I wouldn’t write

I wouldn’t draw

I wouldn’t think
Of you

Of what I see

Of details
But I do . . .

I would come

I would be strong

I would be alluring
In my walk

In my voice

In my looks
But I don’t . . .

I wouldn’t speak

I wouldn’t see what I could

I wouldn’t hear anything
Of you

Of anything

Of the words
But I do . . .

Instead I scream
In my chest

Instead I cry


Instead I

clench my fists

Instead I write
All the time

Instead I draw


Instead I think

About every detail

Instead I come
Walking to see you

Instead I am strong

Physically, my voice serious

Instead I am alluring

without meaning to be

Instead I speak
To you as a friend

Instead I see

What I can to know you

Instead I hear

All you have to say

To do other wise


Who I am . . .

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