Musings by The Poet Loriet
The Crying Game
Every night,
I awaken for two hours,
a different two hours
each time...
and I cry.
It's my time to wonder,
to think of all the things
I push away during the day,
to let all my insecurities
come to the surface,
to ask myself the questions
I know I can't face
the answers to.
I don't wonder about
babies or rainbows or
flowers or clouds.
I wonder about truths
and misconceptions
and lies and all of the
unknowns I don't dare ask about.
My mind plays tricks on me,
imagines all your other lovers,
all the reasons you really
don't want to be with me.
In those two hours,
my mind fills me in
on the rest of the story.
I cry until exhaustion
and then I sleep.
Want to play?
Toss the dice and
move me three spaces.
Lori Beal
I awaken for two hours,
a different two hours
each time...
and I cry.
It's my time to wonder,
to think of all the things
I push away during the day,
to let all my insecurities
come to the surface,
to ask myself the questions
I know I can't face
the answers to.
I don't wonder about
babies or rainbows or
flowers or clouds.
I wonder about truths
and misconceptions
and lies and all of the
unknowns I don't dare ask about.
My mind plays tricks on me,
imagines all your other lovers,
all the reasons you really
don't want to be with me.
In those two hours,
my mind fills me in
on the rest of the story.
I cry until exhaustion
and then I sleep.
Want to play?
Toss the dice and
move me three spaces.
Lori Beal
Comment On This Poem ---
The Crying Game
The Crying Game
