I'll craze myself until it hurts
Berate myself for all I'm worth
Regret and cry
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ and laugh and lie
If I can't make me move within
the tiny span I allow for me
the tiny protection from misery
I'll hurt myself with hate, with pain
Perfection's lost once again
Perfection died; it never lived
And I can't love me like we did
I look at me and fill with hate
fear me, dread me, annihilate
All images and text © Wendy Jedrzejewska 2005
You have a lovely blog - I very much like your poetry, spare and evocative. Quite a nice line: "And I can't love me like we did" It is both an acceptance of an obvious diminishment in living, and also an acknowledgment that life (and you) will no long be what it once was.
ReplyDeleteGood luck, Bob
Thank you ever so much for your kind words, Bob. This is the first time I have shared any of my poetry and photography and it means a great deal that you have understood the essence of my thoughts. I hope you continue to pop in and visit me on my blog.
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