How many times
have I projected
those words?
How many times
has the reality of me been
erased from history?
Where does the truth go,
when bonds
by it are broken?
How many loves
have been forged,
consummated
wordlessly left to
die without oxygen?
Life needs love
the fires of reality
to be stoked
uncontrollably blazing
like a star in the
expanding galaxy
Maybe I’m not the epitome
of humanity, grace, and
perfect humility
I’ve gone the extra mile
performed my life
without intentional
malice or guile
Telling my story boldly
to God and all his
precious children
on every blessed occasion
bestowed upon me
Listening with a
keen eye to
detail and a plot hook
So I might draw
their sagging rainbow
to safety,
full to bursting
and ready to give way
I joined the joyous
final day, my words
sticking in the air
like fine china clay
I shape them, paint them
fire them all in a batch
A gleaming sculpted
replica of me
with a repeating word
“undefinable”
wrapping neatly
in the perfect
nOn-BiNaRy font
An Icon
the physical
representation
of the enigma I
never got the chance
to become
K.B. Silver
🔴🟠🟡🟢🔵🟣🔴🟠🟡🟢🔵🟣🔴🟠🟡🟢🔵🟣🔴🟠🟡🟢🔵🟣
Living with dissociative amnesia is very disconcerting. When I "came out" to my mother a few years ago, I got the distinct feeling I had already done so or, at the very least, she had concrete prior knowledge of the fact. No memory was knocked loose then, but since the dam broke, I have gotten a few hazy memories of being "more than friends" with one of my childhood best friends. It isn't much, but I try to live in those precious moments.
About the Creator
K.B. Silver
K.B. Silver has poems published in magazine Wishbone Words, and lit journals: Sheepshead Review, New Note Poetry, Twisted Vine, Avant Appa[achia, Plants and Poetry, recordings in Stanza Cannon, and pieces in Wingless Dreamer anthologies.
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CH 20~ Party Down
Argento’s ninth (eighteenth in earth years) Birthday came and went Thursday, the thirteenth, and he’d already received his father’s gift, if you could call it that. You had to commit a fairly serious infraction to be cut off; the Arch-Baron was keeping up appearances and maintaining his own reputation as much as any sense of love or attachment to Argento with his “gift.”
By K.B. Silver Exclusive • 7 days ago
Comments (2)
💙
Beutifully written and the idea of self as china is such a complex and lovely metaphor 💜 Some memories are so hard to pin down and make sense of. It sounds like there is an awful lot to navigate x