You would often ask me what was on my mind – the queries more guided than genuine. The truths were usually bound to work, family quarrels and witches, with no wiggle room.

My answers always cut – your cheeks would sink and your smile would lose its hollow pink. Though distracted, I was not without compassion and care – or the half- smile that kept you perched and “there”.

One April morning, you probed again – braced for my reply.  This time, I responded, “You, it is always you love…”. With that, I quelled your proper fears and began to slowly disappear. The bedroom grew small and escape became the game.

© Anthony Gorman 2017


4 thoughts on “denied/pacified

  1. The last time I asked a man who I thought I was having a moment with what he was thinking about, he told me “an omelet.” I stopped asking after that. Which has nothing really to do with the intensity of your poem. Sorry. I’ve been up since 3:30 am and am getting a little thin around the edges.

    Liked by 1 person

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