it’s a stupid kind of loneliness.
an intentional loneliness.
a stupid kind of intentional, confidently optimistic loneliness.
the loneliness of a browneyed boy
who has loved,
intensely,
and who was left alone. and now,
with faint remnants of scar tissue, is ready again.
but has decided to be extremely picky
so if it happens this time,
she’ll at least be worth remembering,
worth being sad over.
that is my loneliness.
the loneliness of the inside of the cheek,
when the facetious tongue has been removed for a moment
of solemnity or melancholy.
and, waiting patiently and politely, knows
that when the mirth and merriment and general geniality return,
the tongue will be there again.
and not necessarily my tongue.
'she’ll at least be worth remembering, ' ahhh, brilliant line...This entire poem is heart numbing..my thoughts usually are: been there, done that, not gonna do it again...but I always do... I loved the clever and wit of this piece...pen on my friend!
this is the first time i've read you, jackson (at least as far as i can recall) , and found this an enjoyable read. well done. very thoughtful writing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like it... I'm only 15 and I've learned early exactly what you're saying.... I've been hurt before... and he wasn't worth remembering, so now I need to be picky...Thanx for relating :) Brit