Random
Am I responsible for the thoughts
That come unbidden in the night?
For the pain that sears like flames
In the darkest corner of my heart?
I try to ignore it, the incessant reminder
The incoherent taunting of the clock
As it ticks on.
And here I sit, constantly stabbed
By the daggers of doubt
The mad offspring of unfulfilled desire.
I was still waiting to grow up
Yet somehow I’ve grown old.
How did it happen? I never saw the years go by.
So what now? What’s appropriate behavior
For a woman who’s aging in skin and bones
But young in heart, agile in mind
Still aching for passion?
Am I allowed to dream, to breathe?
To seek an ease of ache from desperation?
Even desperation is a waiting game.
And waiting requires the commodity of time.
And time is running out.
This voice inside my mind
Keeps whispering the question
“Do I dare?”
What was the point of the hopes and the dreams?
This feels like the end of a farce.
Time to get serious now.
But about what?
Making the bed? Walking the dog?
What to watch on tv tonight?
It happened too fast.
If this all that there is, it can’t end soon enough!
I am tired.
I am restless.
I am kicking the walls.
I am helpless, still hopeful.
And I feel like a fool.
“Do I dare?” DO I dare?
Or do I sit here and smile and wait for life to go on?
KBD
7/22/14
(2014)
Subconsciously inspired by "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T.S. Eliot
