- Books, Literature, and Writing
Faux Noir: Poem
I’m weary of false darkness.
The shrill lament of lost loves,
You’re better off without them,
Yet you march on like a cheap parade
Pedantic romantic rot…
True darkness isn’t pretty,
Nor is anguish.
It’s being stronger,
Stronger than you ever wanted to be;
It’s a torment you long to escape.
Not a melancholy pose.
It’s that angry crow inside you,
The angry Goddess who won’t sleep,
The fierce XX which society denies.
She’s strong, indomitable;
She doesn’t have the luxury of tears;
Tears won’t come.
I open one eye,
One eye to look at this world
Then look away.
Put on the smile…
It’s that one single moment,
That moment when you realize,
Realize that life is unalterably brutal.
Looking longingly for a moment,
A moment at the smiling soccer mom,
That mom in her suburban tomb;
She waves and smiles,
Smiles as she hastens towards home;
Her cookies may burn.
Yes, I know darkness…
I had no choice.
It came to me. I invoked it not,
Yet still it came.
I raise a wing,
Just one wing & it is strong,
The other wing remains down,
Down against my back.
I dare not release that wing
The wind rustles…
And then… silence.