I had to laugh. There was no avoiding
the bubble of irony, foaming
upward from my lungs and pushing past my
lips, through the tight smile that I
had been holding. Even as I poured
my misery on a piece of plain white
paper, even as I etched a confused scrawl
of pain and bewilderment- even then,
my sentences lifted at the ends.
There was a wedge of blank space
on the bottom right of the page,
as if my words were flying away
or they were climbing a ramp
onto higher ground.
I had to laugh, because
I can’t stay down.
Hahaha! True story. It's an interesting quality. Sometimes I wish I could just wallow in misery like I assume normal people do, but then I realize that it's kind of an endearing quality.
As a friend put it once, "You're like a f*ing fount of hope and optimism. It's a little annoying, but mostly amusing."
.
I like writing poetry. Not all of it is going to be a historical epic or an ode to something. These are like little glimpses of the subway in my mind; my train of thought isn't always artsy or symbolic or deep or meaningful, but I like to think that art takes ordinary things and makes people see a sort of beauty in them. So, look around- I've been doing this for a while. Enjoy ♥
2 comments:
oh, this is so lovely. wonderful imagery. and i wish i had that quality. i was going to say that i feel the same lifting when i write, and though i do to some extent, i usually still find ways to linger on whatever i had felt before hahah.
I have these moments sometimes too! And they totally baffle me and make me so frustrated because I'm so used to wallowing in my misery, and I really quite enjoy it. Most of the time. But sometimes, all I can do is laugh and smile because life really isn't as bad as I think it should be.
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