The Feeling of Love's Pain

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  • Sadness
    • Logic
    • is discovering so much to write about.

    The Feeling of Love's Pain

    You’ve pierced me, but I couldn’t defend myself.
    You scarred me and I have yet to heal.
    I lie on my back, trying to make sense
    of your attack in which you’ve shown no mercy.
    I wrestle with thoughts of confusion
    as I try to comprehend the reason of your actions.
    But then I ask myself,
    “Why didn’t I choose to fight back?”

    I recall being caught up in my image of happiness.
    An image where pain was often avoided.
    I thought of you so fondly, but I was being naïve.
    I believed that everything was peaceful and easy.
    What I believed to be everlasting bliss
    was actually excessive numbness,
    constant blindness,
    foolish apathy.
    I marveled at our union as if there would never be any flaws.

    Ignorant I was to your suffering.
    To your pain I became oblivious.
    I’d always thought that you were happy.
    Happy...in the same way that I was.
    After all, wasn’t I always good to you?
    Didn’t I always comfort you?
    Weren’t you always confident in what we had?

    Maybe I was just being overconfident
    by entrusting my hopes in the hands
    of a deceitful artist’s conception,
    as he painted portrait after portrait of images
    designed specifically to cater to my comforting thoughts,
    making the most hideous pictures of my imagination
    seem like a harmonious array of colors.
    His conception created my misconception,
    corrupting my perception by use of his convincing words of deception.
    It hurts.
    The words. The frustration. The accusations.
    The fact that my pride was your torment.
    In retrospect I saw that all I deserved
    was the pain that I’ve brought into your existence.
    I feel as if my heart has been disabled.
    I’ve become unworthy of your trust,
    undeserving of your open arms.
    I saw that I wasn’t ready for you
    to throw turpentine on my perfect portrait.
    But you did what you did
    to show me that you cared.

    It was hard to see your face today,
    or hear your voice in the same way as before.
    Yet I couldn’t find it in my heart to turn my back on you.
    Although I am still healing
    I am no longer hurt.
    It was the time that I have spent yearning to be away from you
    when I realized that I would be forever damaged
    if you weren’t in my life.

    September 27, 2004

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    Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.

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    Logic’s Poems (8)

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