Outside

Outside

My mind stings with anticipation

Of the pain I might feel if I open my heart

I grasp at the low hanging fruit

Because they choose not to disturb me deeply

A human emotion washes up

And I try to ignore it

I calm myself with a drink

And then push into nothingness

I’m distracted by the blinking light on my machine

It says you have boxed something of mine

And it rests coldly outside

A note from you nestled inside

I can’t call, it’s too late

And I’m numb from infractions

My heart worms around for nothingness

It feels like I love you

© 1/17/2001, William Grant Preston

Grant's Rants - Poetry