Emily Rae Robles

the paradoxymoron

It’s A Beautiful Day

In the neighborhood, where the sun pounds down like the thunder in my ears
and suffocates the tune to which I dance
away my regrets of the nothings I never did;
I swing on the ropes that I can’t climb
and feel the calluses on my tender hands burn
against the passing of time.
Breathing in the heat is like swallowing a sponge
that soaks up nothing but the air that chokes me
until  I fight to drown,
would rather be drowning
than burrowing my way through consciousness.
If I were a someone other than my own, I might inhale
the song of my sight,
the vision of my hearing,
the smell of my touch
into lungs that contain much more than air,
much more than the will to live.
It’s a beautiful day
where the children play-act
scenarios that pit good against evil-minded
villains whose own childhoods colored grey the questions of their heart.
In a someday that may never come, I will seize the day
with both tender hands, burning
against the stopping of time,
until life slowly begins again
to breathe me in.


April 19, 2011 - Posted by | poetry, writings

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