Roxanne (Who are you?)
My fingers fiddle with nothing,
While my legs shake,
Anticipating and soothing
Crumbled pieces of souls.
I cross my legs more than once
And turn to my surroundings
Feeling my quickening pulse
Reminded that the ground is
A lot like quicksand
And the desert is confounding.
Silly gestures pass us by
With small talk to decorate the silence
Waiting for each other to reply
With neither of us enjoying
In conclusion, we all need guidance,
Tell us how to be human
Creating images of illusion,
Reflections of what we aren’t
But wish to be.
We all play the game of pretend
Where we recommend versions
Of ourselves that don’t exist
But we persist that’s who we are.
My eyes search for nothing
Only a vision of imagination,
Finding solitary soothing
Within the fragments that used to be.
If you’re interested in my poems, you can check out my Poetry Category or my Zine: Someone to You