Kimberley Holmes · Jul 10, 2010
Small Talk

I prefer to talk with my eyes.
Conversation revolves around appalling ties
Re-rehearsing my small-talk lines
Body language’s flaming tell-tale signs
If you want to know me better
I think you’d have to write me a letter
Because its only scrawled honesty I understand
Though I’ll dismiss you with the movement of my hand
As I haven’t the time for a petty game
My voice is lost in this ghostly shame
It wandered past and then right through you
I laughed as your insides were a disaster too
Even in your lying, you cannot deny reality
You’re not superhuman, not banded by immortality
You are just as bullet-riddled as the rest of us
You are no more, no less, just one of us
We are all you need, we are everything devilish
We are rotten and sacred, but the thing we most cherish
Is that we are free, did you hear me?
I said we are free.

 
To comment on this poem, please log in or create a free account
Log in or register to comment