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The trouble with knowing
I wonder what she's thinking
whilst she pretends to watch T.V
She's sat on that same spot
on the same sofa for more years
than i care to remember
gradually not caring about
the seven long hairs that grow
from her chin or the stains
all over her clothing from
last weeks dinner
She sips her cider
I watch
She sips
I ask: "where is he?"
"He's in bed." She answers,
not removing her eyes from
the commercials.
"Pour me another, will you?
and open the window"
She is almost robotic.
I can see past the piss stained
mess that has become her
well enough to know she
is scared as hell.
I open the window
The breeze bounces past my cheeks
"He can't open the windows
anymore" she whispered-
though i wasn't meant
to hear that part
Comments
Rhiannon1010
Mon, 2011-08-22 14:55
a depressing yet filling read
a depressing yet filling read... what, pray tell, was your story behind this peice?
violet
Mon, 2011-08-22 15:04
Thank you for your comment.
Thank you for your comment.
This was simply something that happened when i went to my mothers house a few nights ago. The person we are talking about is my step father. He was diagnosed with cancer a few months ago.
Thank you for reading
violet
Mon, 2011-08-22 15:06
.
.*accidentally double posted*
weirdelf
Sun, 2011-08-28 01:14
I don't know what I hear here.
I know I hear a deep poem of digust and despair. I interpreted the "he" as a drunken bum, not cancer.
This is a different poem from you, and gives me an insight to your pain. It gives me, despite my empathic pain, a deeper insight into you, a person of depth who I would like to know better.
cheers,
Jess
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