All alone with her memories
She tries to write a poem
It will be about life and love
And disappointment
The months disappeared into years
But the pain and joy go on
Forging her resolve to resolve
The loss, the hunger, the gladness, the sadness
The blouse she wears was given by him
Pulled from her closet on special days
There she is: sitting on that big rock
Staring into the Bay
It’s best not to approach her now
There’s really nothing to say

There will always be change
That much is the same
Yet it's not the change
But the chains
That mire me

I admired
She knew
It was nothing new
Us two
In this game
The one that we played
Where the rules displayed
That the game
Was not spoken
Or displayed

A cat and mouse chase
Set at tortoise's pace
Torture gladly I take
While I patiently wait
Possibility's sake
Of a move I might make

Why do I do this to myself?
Creating unnecessary stress,
Undesirable pressure.
I can set my own deadlines,
On my own terms.
Yet, why do I feel so guilty
When I miss my own timeframe.
It is kind of ironic really,
As "time" in reality is nothing but an abstract invention.
And "reality" is all about being in the moment.

Mariette St-Denis
Poem 17
#2021mariettepoems

I said so many things I wish I could take back
I must have suffocated you
I'm too broken, but I warned you from the beginning
You said you weren't going anywhere, but where are you now?