You Can'T Swim Poem by Masiela Lusha

We are trapped, you and I,
Inside this dome which easily shrinks
From all sides like released elastic,
Easily swallowing the planes of space,
Easily frozen against our united force of dismay.

If I knew enough deceit, if I only knew the art
Of bearded lies.
And silly barren things like gifts of words.

If only I could have known that smiles
Are only as deep as the skin it creases,
I would have saved you the trouble
Of such a rape of truth.

And as I look into your face with dry tears,
And a slowing heart,
I cannot help but consider the irony.

Has it been two years of deceit?
Two full years of collecting pretty
Polished pebbles of lies,
And placing them beneath you,
To raise you inches closer to this measure
Of clean perfection which you believe exists?
To raise you above the shadowed hollow
In which you lived your life
That seemed to darken your surroundings in this society?

I had never known that such a hollow existed.
But through our separate lives,
You have indeed dug yourself deep enough
That the machinery of false tales and excuses,
Allows you to rise up above your own work.

Now I watch you. Too far to reach you.
Although I can touch you, I won’t.
My mind cannot find you behind those rocks
Of tears knotting your face into something
Unrecognizable.

With every fat tear, your foundation of polished pebbles
Begins to shift, until what surrounds you is a sea of riding bitterness,
And your only savior of respect, your pebbles of lies.
One pebble slides, one lie revealed.

But the rage of your weeping causes such a current
Of emotional waves that lick the corners of your pedestal.

Through your tears, I witness each faithful pebble tumble from under you.
I watch as you sink farther into that cavity you secretly prophesized
Would be revealed. This is your doing.

I watch as your own tears betray your own lies.
All I can do is watch from this progressing distance;
This fattening distance taunting our friendship.

I watch until your fellowship of measured falseness,
One faithful to the other,
Tumbles away from you, neglecting you
As you neglected yourself.

I watch as your pebbled pedestal is easily swallowed and crushed
By your own betrayal of violent tears—choking any sense of pride.
I watch as this opening sea of once bottled history overflows beyond
your limit,
And beyond my limit.

And I witness the flat floor of the now sleeping pebbles,
Far below your drowning body.

I’m sorry,
But, I can truly only watch and witness,
At the slow demise of my trust through your honesty of tears,
And the realization that, above all this,

You can’t swim.