Slate Grays

my hands are dry and rough from working
my eyes are small and used to squinting
my stature average, verging on petite
I have thin skin and veiny feet
my complexion’s poor, my tone is pale
genes say my bones will be quite frail
I have no nails as they are weak
my voice is too high when I speak
my mother thinks my hair’s too long
I think all compliments are wrong
I’m a sceptic, sometimes too much so
though I try to be fair to friend and foe
my opinions strong, my manner shy
in public you’ll never see me cry
in private I keep emotions tame
my anxiety has that cause to blame
I hate to shop, but buy a lot
no place could ever be too hot
I dislike snow, I dislike cold
I’m terrified of getting old
I have good friends who understand
I’m always later than I plan
I’m sensitive, and feel more pain
than I let off, or care to explain
I never intentionally drink alcohol
and for this, flunk social protocol
I dislike freckles, and have a bunch
I bend, I slouch, I slump, I hunch
I get depressed but never treat
I just stay up late and never eat
somehow, I’ve seemed to manage this wreck
to keep my addictive tendency in check
though these faults I easily admit
I’d like to think there’s some good to it
I’ll never regret the time departed
for when I love, I love whole-hearted

    

      

Copyright L.M. 2008.

Inventory

I want you to know
every one of you
that I don’t cry for you
I don’t weep
I’m not heartbroken
for nothing can break
through stone

ups and downs
everyday drama
it’s not my thing
I’d rather hide in the forest
and wait for you to find me

as it is, I look for you
outside my door
exiting my life
and wonder if you’ll be back
because I never know for sure

where did I get these thoughts?

did Einstein suffer depression?
I suppose he must have
thoughts like that from me
have pricked the plume anew
though I like the solitary company

I bend
far too much
so much so
that I don’t know
within myself
where I search
and daily toss
the dye that bleeds me

I know where we stand
each and every single one of us
and I will continue to try
to rationalize
and objectify
myself in my mind
just for you

I soared into storm clouds
higher than life
I cannot blame the messenger
but yet I can’t help
feeling tossed
like stale bread
soaking up any hint of warmth
to postpone the brittle battle
I will play by your rules
I will chisel a path
as long as you still try
and as long as I don’t fall
but I should let you know
I don’t feel your respect
not today, nor yesterday
not in the slightest
don’t you see?
I’m the doll
the smiling face which you do greet
with open arms and fleeing feet
sighing, wishing for a day
with ladders finally tossed away
so I may sit alongside you
with worries none, and fears few
the palm I’m in is over-filled
and not exactly what I willed
but choices few, this chiselled stone
is all I have to call my own

Copyright L.M. 2007.  (written a couple months ago, and again I recognize the poem isn’t very good haha).