I live still
through a cold winter
catch glimpses
of a northern hemisphere summer
beamed via satellite
on to my dead brother's screen
and the wind picks up
again
reminding me of seasons lost
past loves
of ancient happiness
of being able to dance
And you here listening
to my story
you see me through today's eyes
know of today's sirens only
you can't fall into my yesterday
know her soft nipple
touch her thighs
and laugh at strange things
in the morning
I remain forever a stranger
with no past
no longing
if I told you I was Superman
you would scoff
sip your wine
and wait for the next line
and as I finish
discard me
I'm but another lost poet
summoning up my solitude and suffering
and it's not kryptonite that scares me
but your attitude
DISCARD ME
Even though it likely wasn't your intent, Boss, this is a reminder [for me] of why for some people, those from our past are so valued. They've seen us walk, fall, get up and keep going, and so many of our experiences, and can appreciate so much of 'who' we are, and how we got to today. Of course, they can, likewise, also be very painful reminders and ride on the grudges and memories they hold, as well. Trying to 'fill someone in' on what makes us who we are is so impossible.
~ Lizzy
~ Lizzy
