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"Don't paint me into a corner" you said.
and finished with what some may misconstrue as a threat.
Did I? Perhaps.
Your response when this question of threat was raised…
“No, not a threat…you just wouldn’t like me painted there.”
Whereas I do not profess to be a painter of corners
This request leaves me somewhat inquisitive.
You hint that you are entangled by a notion one would equate to bondage.
I stand at the edge, looking over quagmires of irony created by you…
The safe little cage in which you perch to whistle the tune of freedom
Is rattled albeit unintentionally,
by my self perpetuated demands
to regain some semblance of control
within environments that seem deficit of such concepts.
It is not my intention to wrestle you into some form of servility
and what is perceived by you to be corner painting
is a mere attempt by me to understand a situation
which seemingly I lose more understanding with daily.
It would stand to reason that when I am soaking in a pool of chaos
certain yearnings for individual control would be sought.
And this tune of freedom your so bent on whistling
has caged you in a lonely little shell that I see you peering out of
with trepidation from time to time.
If anything has you in bondage it’s your own fear of losing your freedom or
being painted into a corner…
quagmires of irony???
What you may mistake for neediness is only a delicate human trait
that even you fall prey to.
Simply, I become overwhelmed by the circumstances shaping my life.
Sometimes I tend to feel somewhat insecure.
At times in my frailty's I feel extremely lonely and wish only to hide my head in someone’s shoulder.
At times all I really want is someone to embrace and reassure me that I'm
not alone.
Tender words oftentimes will mend the woes of a trying day.
Bitten by the bitter sting of too much said,
Assembled we two, proclaimed further, both insisting our own arguments legitimate.
One may listen but never hear
as the cloak of stubbornness blinds the points that will never be seen.
So dance round the issue of my need for your declaration of love
for a tender voice that settles my mind.
I know I'm a mess you don't want to clean up
I have to fold because your hands are too shaky to hold
Hunger hurts, but starving works, when it costs too much to love.
Afterward… It seems as though you're as accomplished at corner painting as I am.
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Posted by Gadadavita on 2008-04-29 19:43:17 | Rating: | Views: 52
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