Keep Passing the Open Window

Keep telling myself there is no hopelessness without hope,

no pain with out love or love without pain

 

(after awhile all my self affirmations do nothing but run back to back,

over and undermining one another until)

 

I’m confused by my own state of mind

- my once friend, constant companion -

even it seems to leave me at times.

 

Is it an itch?

Or an ache?

Or a break along the lines

between where the emotion and the reason meet?

Was I ever meant for this human interaction?

Those words that come from nowhere but settle so heavily on my heart?

 

Creating delusions and illusions of what could be, would be, if only I weren’t me.

Author's Note

I think the poem describes itself, but the title, I have to admit is not my own words - credit rightly goes to John Irving and his book "Hotel New Hampshire." Great read by the way, and the title is a kind of mantra for the characters. A kind of keep on trucking kind of thing, life and love may not always be so great but that's no reason to throw yourself out the window. Tempting though it may seem sometimes.