Life of a lemon
I sit in the solitude of my mind and ponder,
trying to decipher the pangs of my heart.
Where does such resistance stem from?
I feel as though I'm a charlatan,
people offer their generous gifts of love and grace,
and no matter the circumstance i still feel undeserving,
as if they are attempting to purchase something of merit,
something worth more than just a passing glance,
perhaps a obligatory smile due to social niceties.
Yet still they continue shining that love upon me,
like the sun that refuses to retreat during a storm,
i can not describe it by way of elegance nor poeticisms,
i have only this to say.
Its as if they want to purchase a vehicle from me,
i know of its leaks, its issues and damage,
how the check engine light comes on at the worst times.
They don't know of MY past with it, MY grudges with it.
They are ignorant of all that, to them they have only this history,
What they've seen and experienced now.
In truth i think it is fear.
I'm afraid that they will have to endure its torrent of catastrophes,
And in the end it will be my fault.
How the fuel gauge goes from full to empty,
how at the worst times it can fail to start and strand you,
how the lights can often flicker or go out all together leaving you traversing in the dark,
How how the heater sometime ceases to function leaving you to contend with the numbing cold alone.
Perhaps i envy them,
their wonderment, their belief,
how they see nothing but possibilities, a thirst for adventure, they see something other than a rusted pile of junk.
My thoughts go quiet,
Is that why it's so easy to love others?
Because they see us as something new, their view clashes with our pasts, like chips of flint striking stone, the sparks of which can ignite passion.
Yet the worry there is the tempting alluring and skewed image of us that their heart holds.
Why be weak and vulnerable with problems abound, when we could be as strong and as wonderful as others might see us to be.
We slither and slide through the light, trying only to keep our best features in view.
Doubt in our head says they could never love the beast under the guise.
But it is this path that leads to monsters, we can say were noble for trying to become perfect for them, yet isnt the ugly truth that we fear seeing the love fade from their longing gaze when they glimpse our flaws?
Silence again.
Would they share these same accursed thoughts?
Is this deprecating cacophony of madness unique to me?
or maybe this mess of insecurity and feelings resides within everyone,
skulking within the depths of the shadow of their hearts.
Are we just a world of souls weaving through the spectrum of illumination,
Trying to show our strengths to the ligh, and keep hidden our weaknesses obscured in the gloom.
trying to decipher the pangs of my heart.
Where does such resistance stem from?
I feel as though I'm a charlatan,
people offer their generous gifts of love and grace,
and no matter the circumstance i still feel undeserving,
as if they are attempting to purchase something of merit,
something worth more than just a passing glance,
perhaps a obligatory smile due to social niceties.
Yet still they continue shining that love upon me,
like the sun that refuses to retreat during a storm,
i can not describe it by way of elegance nor poeticisms,
i have only this to say.
Its as if they want to purchase a vehicle from me,
i know of its leaks, its issues and damage,
how the check engine light comes on at the worst times.
They don't know of MY past with it, MY grudges with it.
They are ignorant of all that, to them they have only this history,
What they've seen and experienced now.
In truth i think it is fear.
I'm afraid that they will have to endure its torrent of catastrophes,
And in the end it will be my fault.
How the fuel gauge goes from full to empty,
how at the worst times it can fail to start and strand you,
how the lights can often flicker or go out all together leaving you traversing in the dark,
How how the heater sometime ceases to function leaving you to contend with the numbing cold alone.
Perhaps i envy them,
their wonderment, their belief,
how they see nothing but possibilities, a thirst for adventure, they see something other than a rusted pile of junk.
My thoughts go quiet,
Is that why it's so easy to love others?
Because they see us as something new, their view clashes with our pasts, like chips of flint striking stone, the sparks of which can ignite passion.
Yet the worry there is the tempting alluring and skewed image of us that their heart holds.
Why be weak and vulnerable with problems abound, when we could be as strong and as wonderful as others might see us to be.
We slither and slide through the light, trying only to keep our best features in view.
Doubt in our head says they could never love the beast under the guise.
But it is this path that leads to monsters, we can say were noble for trying to become perfect for them, yet isnt the ugly truth that we fear seeing the love fade from their longing gaze when they glimpse our flaws?
Silence again.
Would they share these same accursed thoughts?
Is this deprecating cacophony of madness unique to me?
or maybe this mess of insecurity and feelings resides within everyone,
skulking within the depths of the shadow of their hearts.
Are we just a world of souls weaving through the spectrum of illumination,
Trying to show our strengths to the ligh, and keep hidden our weaknesses obscured in the gloom.
31-35, M
