Poetry

Absent Minded Love

Me:  are you mad that I love you?

You:  yes, it scares me.

Me:  if you prefer torture, i can love you to death (and you will die most happy and satisfied.)

You:  hmmm. dying seems easier than love.

Me:   dying is not easier, it is just not--living.  Love is scary because it makes you feel--alive.

You:  if i love you, i am afraid of...

Me:   being happy?

You:  i am conflicted.

Me: because, love-is-new-to-you.

You:  can you forget someone and still love them?

Me: why would you want to forget me? (but i think it can be done. if i try really hard, i can forget you and--still love you.)

You:  really?

Me:  yes, it is called Absent Minded Love.

You:  i want you to always remember me and to remind me what love is.  i will come find you tomorrow, just in case you forget to Find Me...

Me: (i can't wait for your tomorrow to be my today...)

 

When One Belives The Lie...

  the dream and dreamer--die.

 

(two poems inspired from my classroom observations)

 

*     *     *     *

Your Own
 
I Am the
Everything
You Dreamed me to be
But did not
Become.

 

I Am the
Hope
That disappeared
After the Lullaby you sang to me
Each night that I
Cried myself to sleep.

 

I am the Dose—one too many
That over did me and
Unraveled
The Two of You.

 

I was the Spark and the Flame that Burned with
Desire
and made you
Proud to call me Your Own.

 

But when you didn’t see me looking, I caught a Glimpse of the Two of You.
You Modeled me a Picture, I followed to a T.
And so, the Who of You I turned into, was never supposed to be…
Me.

 

My dreams have Died.  Now you sit by my side.
(the ventilators keep me breathing) yet I am not really Here.

 

Still, I can feel
Your tears wet my withered flesh.

 

And you sing to me
One Last Time…
The Lullaby from when I was still
Alive.
 
*     *     *     *
 
(Sweet 16)
 
I am a
10th grader.
Gender, unrecognizable to my
Self
Perhaps to you as well.
Do you See Who I Am?

 

(I don’t either)

 

I want to cry, but I forgot
How.

 

I am constantly castigated with depraved, yet familiar voices; adamant
Faces, crowding and raping my
Soul.
Voices. Faces.  The Albatross around my heart, keeps me from
Self-Governing.

 

I am only 16 years old.  Struggling in a Society that holds no room for autonomy,
Only antipathy and
Gloom.

 

(emerson knew this too)

 

I am a 10th grader.
I want
Freedom
The Self-Reliant kind.
I am a Barrage of feeling-less
Technology.

 

If I could remember what it felt like to not be
Numb,
I guess I would know that I was
Sad.

 

I crave to be seen with
Candor, Ebullience and
Love.

 

If I could see All that I Am
Without the Noises, faces and Words—
Who Do You Think would be revealed to me?
(you are right.)

 

I would be…
                     Ecstasy.

 

 

Copyright © 2004 by R.A. Leslie. All  rights reserved. Contact R.A. Leslie @ www.raleslie.com for further information