Sunday, March 10, 2013

Beyond the Pale Moonlight

                                — Written November 11, 2009

My every sigh is misconstrued
for misery -
my silence is mistaken
for surrender -
my sudden lack of movement
is taken as rebellious sloth.

No one understands me
except pretty strangers
beyond the veil of darkness.

I am weary
of being treated
as though I am something broken
that needs to be fixed.

I grow sullen with deceptions
that are not naturally
within my character.

They cannot comprehend my sorrows,
nor my contentment -
what's worse is, they don't even try.

They berate me
for luminous conversations
I hold with kindred spirits

without noticing
I wane.