all about you

In many ways, it's a struggle to drag the words
out and lay them down on the page, find a way
to gracefully express the rage that suddenly each
word, each phrase, good days, bad days, clear
skies, grey haze, doesn't matter the color or the
pattern, what you don't see smashed you just
want to shatter, what you see is not all about me,
it is all about you; oh my if only that were true,
what an amazing person you would be instead
of the worn out little one that you have become,
if you could be the one and only one who has
lived in my skin, felt my feelings from within,
remembered how I nearly died while I choked on
tears that I cried, how low I went when you
visited me there, yeah sure, you did hold my hand
but now I try to understand why you decided to
let go, hell I don't know, maybe because I might
have become more than a face on a screen or a
Voice on the phone when you and I were both so
all alone, maybe because you were afraid I might
make a misstep, and make it to your doorstep,
maybe I was easier to love when I was far away,
not someone who might have come and stayed,
maybe I was way too close the edge, sitting out on
a ledge, drowning pain like so many others near
the sucking of the drain, and what, that surprised
you, that scared you, that's nothing, I've been
scared by pros, and that was nothing, except
that it showed me who you really were, and
baring your fangs now only serves to remind
me, that for a while it was true, that each and
every one was all about you, but baby sorry to
say, all that dust has settled today, and in
addition to being through, there is nothing more
in me that is all about you.

May 1, 2009. From the forthcoming collection, Spoken Rage.

Copyright © 2009, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

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