POETRY

Private Pseudo-Silence

A broken kind of love poem

i thought reaching this age might inoculate me from such humiliations that I swam against alone

but my myopic vision ever murky and thick-glassed blinded me to the shell-sharpened syntax hidden under your private pseudo-silence

yet you still dazzle and deceive with all sides of (my and) your family

and you set the pace to the beat of your drum regardless of my (psycho)somatic outcomes

i cannot breathe (asthmatic) i barely keep up (chronic fatigue) i am plum tired (fibromyalgia) bruised inside (major depression) and wrung out

i sway and seethe (adhd) my creativity plummets (anxiety) I’m high-wire walking mood leagues below (ptsd)

i thought reaching this age we might celebrate the me of me instead i write cryptic poetry still protecting your anonymity

my myopic vision cost me myself again