I'll bury you in the soil where I lied.A Poem by Roxanne Aponte
The mess is I as I lie. I never go to bed before 4am and I always
unconsciously sit near the emergency exit. Could I be willing to lie
under the dirt further beneath the sky of our promised land? Choose
hell over heaven, though maybe you were hell all along, and I never
really completely made my home within the fire. I've checked into a
blue room in purgatory where I stay still for a while. The manager has
no face because nothing breathes here. Time has stopped until we may be
free to burn or fly. It hurts more to be in eternal sameness.
When I get home I'm going to mimic the waiting ward and wallpaper my little house with flowers. There will be weeds in the garden. I will greet them with my bare feet after I grow my home myself. These flowers will never die unless they peel in the time of our lives and after another hundred lies. My wallpaper has a lot of secrets, because after all it's a mask! I have to make these walls look pretty so they're less threatening though it's hard not to hide things inside the creases. My garden of weeds is the only thing that is real and they eat everything in sight. They aren't beautiful but there aren't words between the lines either; only truths in their roots. If he touches me you die. © 2010 Roxanne AponteReviews
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3 Reviews Added on February 26, 2010 Last Updated on February 26, 2010 AuthorRoxanne AponteBrooklyn, NYAboutI've been writing since I was a child: stories, poetry, much of it personal as I've been an avid journal writer for many years. I write mainly for the cathartic release. My love of words is a passion .. more..Writing
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