the mute poet

he said i was a dreamer
because i am wild and free
he said my decisions were always too new
i know i appeal to the strange
the strange are appealing
 tonight has covered me with stillness
i have devoted myself to this feeling
it's delicate
it's stubborn
it savors the sound of my broken heart
it cries for me
it cries for him
he decorated my day with pain
while i waited for his maturity to arrive
but it never came
he laughed at my ways
with such deviltry
he made me feel like a dwarf
 i didn't even recognize him in this costume
he used to carve his name into the beauty of my day
we used to swing in the park
we were proud fools
but now he remains the critic
i too must express rebellion
but solitude mixed with silence has it's strength
and i studied it like a precious condition
rejection is dangerous to the mind
yet necessary for the soul
 it's tragic unfriendly eye
stares at me all day
this love was half developed
two fires
that wished to be one
i gave so much
but he was too poor to pay me back

-BW