Our Little Wall.
David Sheldon Nicholson
Jan 05, 2008
My mask speaks as we talk on the phone. One comment I did not share with you and fire licks from your words. You speak of things you did for me, but what of the things I gave up for you?
Anger lives inside the mask of calm and placid nature; burning to strike back. Fire, clay and bits of what I may have become once? all these make up the bricks I lay in the wall I will never see over as long as I live.
Your words form an axe that rips the flesh off the bones of this damaged life. 20 years away from you and still your hands control my movements. I did not lie, I only left out what would have caused you worry.
In the endless conversation I imagine striking you from my life. To have nothing more to do with your words of razor cuts. If only once I could have some time with not the feeling of inadequate bonding.
I take up with a stranger in the night to forget what I know. The two of us mix and mingle with the lust of the dammed. This brief pleasure found, stricken down by your memory.
For what I wanted to be can never be, for there is always you inside me mind. The happiest times are tinted with what you speak so sharply of. And such a simple thing you cause me pain for.
Your words of God make me want to strike you! Your cold hands upon mine fill me with dread! You do nothing but want of me; yet give almost nothing of substance back!
Anger drives my mind to turn upon itself. Rage blinds me from what is real and what is not. If it where not for the mask, you would be dead by my hand.
How can you call this love, when you have killed my soul and taken my dreams? How can you call yourself a part of me when you drive a spike threw my inner child? Ashes are what are left from what I was and you hold the torch in your hands.
I have given you everything I could give you and there is always more you want of me. I have taken the best part of my life and handed it to you for your needs, while forgetting mine. There is so little of me left now that I could never share with another again, in any meaningful way.
And all I want to know is why? Thank you for building this little wall. Thank you for all the time it took to take the best of me.