Monday,Jul 24 2006, 07:00:25 AMOn The Edge

On The Edge

 

Ducking down

to avoid the rage

meant for THEM

but thrown at me

I sit on the edge

 

Hiding behind

fancy poems or

unfinished prose

to escape

pointless conversation

I sit on the edge

 

Watching you suffer

my hand is refused

my love cannot cure

my words salt your wounds

I sit on the edge

 

You think my smiles

are a mockery

of your tormented soul

comfortable

in the company

of its demons

you stay just out of reach

I sit on the edge

 

You mistake me

for a mindless fool

because I choose

not to step in bullshit

You see my strength

as denial

You forget what

connects us

and go to bed

without me

I sit on the edge

 

I sit on the edge

of who I am,

wondering:

should I jump into

the stagnant pool

of hopelessness

just to keep you company?

 

© 2006 Rhonda Lee Richoux