heartless

Briefly Narcissus

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

He was arrogant, self-centered,
manipulative, demanding,
and utterly, flawlessly charming.

These things can’t exist
in a vacuum.

He was propped up
by admiration,
adoration,
from those who worshiped
his beauty.

He cared not a jot for any of them.
He was far too absorbed by himself.
No one could pull on his heartstrings.

Beauty brings love
to those of no virtue,
and youth is admired
above wisdom and age.

Photographed, interviewed,
followed and praised,
his face filled the magazines.

With no special talent, he faded.
No one remembered his name.
His body was found
in a cold empty room.
He had covered the mirrors
with pages
torn from the old magazines.

Outside the window
a narcissus bloomed,
a symbol of sunshine and spring.
Cupping the sunlight
they may last a week.
They never last longer than that.

Frozen.

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

 

Now here before me I see
the uncrossable bridge,
a drawbridge raised beyond.
It’s made of ice.

On the other side,
holding on to imagined hurt,
clinging to thoughts,
counting,
saying nothing to me,
quivering in rage or sadness,
confused perhaps,
a victim to perception sits
in visions I cannot change.
I cannot know what she thinks.
She won’t allow me across.

I watch as I stand.
I can’t reach out,
hold
or help.
Locked out.

This is often the worst,
the worst of the worst of all.
Misunderstanding
breathes in the silence
between us,
in unspoken words
through closed doors,
no air.

This is injustice.
Heartless.
A vacuum.
A chasm.
A void.

Unwise.

Silence, a solid structure
of ancient deeply grained timbers,
sealed and barred,
a simple torture device
that stands on immovable stone.

Left with a hard decision to make,
for myself and how I feel,
the choice between anger
or sadness or nothing,
nothing at all.

I could ignore it again.
In nothingness
there’s no pain.

On days like this
I would willingly give up
on words
or thinking at all.

I can’t help myself either.
I am frozen,
emptily sad.