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poetry

My Broken Temple

A dear friend of mine asked for a perspective, to see what I thought of him. Hours later, after a burst of creativity and consideration, I created this poem and showed it to him. To accommodate for brutal words, I crossed out lines and phrases, but the poem itself still demonstrated the good and bad of his character in my eyes […]

It all started with what you drew

Lines on paper, that went up and through

An image beautiful and harrowing and hollow too

That’s when I knew there was something haunting you

Your smile was contagious

Your humor outrageous

I remember you on the stage

Just right

Every night

You took off in flight

Saying lines to the light

Persistently proving your amorous ambition for acting and its high

How sad it was when you decided to say goodbye

You woke up on the wrong side of your mind

Decided that you were a little behind

Slipped into shoes old and ragged

Smoothed out your edges, rough and jagged

Ran your fingers through your wild hair

Put on a careless and relaxed air

Ignored the monster under the stair

And lofted about on a blue, ancient chair

I looked at your art again and again

A curious case of a curious new friend

Piecing together the puzzle and trying to comprehend

Why your aura was cold and desolate and blue

Why you shut down when the focus wasn’t on you

Why your knuckles were scarred and bruised

Yet nothing affected your upright attitude

We talked more and more

Months and months went by

I eventually found out

And it made me cry

Your past was dark and jaded

Any determination you had faded

Depression loomed over you and waited

Anxiety eating at you on a day-to-day basis

Yet you gave me the understatement

Blew it off and tried to be patient

You carry a world of hurt on your shoulders

It gets larger and larger as you grow older

You keep your distance, but refuse to grow colder

But you’ve also sacrificed other things

Your drive disappeared

You seem to live in fear

Your focus isn’t even here

What do you love or hold dear?

This puzzle is only half-done

I don’t know if this is just some

Theory of a question that will never see completion

Or perhaps… you’re an artist who’s just begun

***

A dear friend of mine asked for a perspective, to see what I thought of him. Hours later, after a burst of creativity and consideration, I created this poem and showed it to him. To accommodate for brutal words, I crossed out lines and phrases, but the poem itself still demonstrated the good and bad of his character in my eyes. Days later, he gifted me with a picture of his perspective. There was no malice in the image, no hint of my vices (which are plentiful). It remains one of my favorite illustrations. Still, guilt gnaws at me. While my apology may never see fruition, I do regret my coarse and brutal nature as much as I regret befriending his patience and kindness.

By griffalice

A poet, an artist, and an explorer.

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