The Conversation with my Reflection

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  • Logic
  • is discovering so much to write about.

The Conversation with my Reflection

Again we meet.
I almost never see you anymore.
You’ve been away for so long
that I don’t recognize you when you are around.
The last time we talked
you accused me of abandoning you.
You said that I wasn’t taking care of you
the way that was intended.
You didn’t see peace between us.
Instead, you saw the emptiness in my words,
the arrogance in my eyes,
the ignorance in my ears,
the incompetence in my feet,
and the selfishness of the desires in my heart.

You asked me, “What happened?”
I gave you no response.

Your words of reason has become the victim
of my deaf ears and my cold shoulders.
You yearned to be seen by all.
However, I’ve kept you hidden in the darkness,
never to be seen or heard.
I wanted them to know me.
I wanted them to love me.
I wanted them to adore.
I often felt embarrassed by you.
I believed that they would never accept you.
I feared that they would hate you.

With me you felt like you were dead.
I had no tears to shed for you.

Now when I see you,
you don’t smile like you used to.
When I talk to you,
you respond to me in overwhelming apathy.
You came to me with open arms and hopeful thoughts and walk away from me carrying a broken heart.
A heart that I shattered with no remorse.
A heart heavy with the weight of depression.

But all that I did was throw my head back,
clutch my chest and laugh triumphantly.

I look at you now and ask,
“Where have you been?”
The anger in your eyes gave me an answer.
It said that I starved you.
I ignored you.
I hid you.
I shunned you.

It is hard to finally accept the fact
that the accusations were all true.


May 7, 2004

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KQ commented on The Conversation with my Reflection

08-08-2009

Very interesting self-confession. I liked the closing lines as they complement the title nicely. In this line: "Your words of reason has become the victim" "words" 'have' not "has"! In addition, the tone and mood are tenderly harsh. I particularly like the figure of self starvation you use in: "It said that I starved you." Enjoyed reading!

Poetry is what is lost in translation.

Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

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