my thoughts are
contorted beyond recognition
in this house
which could fall apart
at any given moment
and leave me stranded
beneath a pile
of moth-eaten hypocrisy
love should never
be slathered on the wall
like fresh paint
to hide your sins
but if i let you know me
i wouldn't exist
in the same fragile
state of mind;
i'd have to be rebuilt
without reflexive defense,
you'd have to find
a less menacing face
because when you hug me
neither of us
knows how to mean it
A contest entry
- hypocrite by the atlantic.
2300 points, ended September 3, 2008, 11 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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I enjoyed this whole piece. Really lovely images and metaphors. Though it's short, it felt so much longer while I was reading it which is a good thing because I got lost in it. I loved the whole idea of the house. Thanks for entering this great piece
Jeanette*~
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-i am very much afraid of what the first stanza depicts, myself.
-very nice last stanza.
-don't like the title much, though.
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The title reminds me of this book I heard of, The Art of Hugging or something. The ending stanza is brilliant.
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