[three different poems with a central theme]
I. Some days you feel like the world is turning for you. Like life has been orchestrated to do no other but make you happy. Other days you sense that the band playing your rhythm has fallen hopelessly out of tune. Life becomes shaky and unsure and you can’t help but feel that if the drummer had been just a little more on beat- you would be blissfully unaware of the tragedy that had just occurred. But the drummer was off and that’s that and now the backdrop on the stage of your world has fallen into disrepair. You’re not quite sure if you’ll ever be able to build back up. Because even if you do, there will always be some tiny imperfection or the presence of discord reminding you of what happened.
II. He stood unmoving, as he often did when awful filled him. He didn’t know what to do, so he just stood
stagnant. After a while, just as water when too still for too long, he began to feel foul, realization infiltrating him- a pollution that overtook his body.
Vomit and wipe his mouth on his sleeve,
Time
passed, as he tried to decide what to do with this thing that was making his heart twist in ways it shouldn't.
He needed to
put the phone back on the receiver because the empty line was making his head hurt and then he would
Not cry.
III. She let the tears stream down her face and did not think
about it. She tried not to let the crack at her throat let all the fear down into her chest.
The fear that it was true, because it wasn’t and couldn’t be and the faceless handwriting on the page was lying.
If she just cried, maybe the sorrow making her body numb would run its course.
Crumple to the floor, shaking with sobs and grief and refusal she just cried and pretended she was invisible and nothing had ever happened.
Because it couldn’t be true. And telling herself it wasn’t true made it better.
Then she didn’t want to feel like that anymore
So the door slammed behind her and she began walking. Even when it got dark, and the trees got thicker.
She broke
into a run.
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