Poetry by Faydra Underwood

Dolorimetry

I remember the day that
you came into my life…
The sun was beaming down,
and I had a new lease on my life…

You made an entrance,
really made your presence known
with the first roll…
after that, you are all that I have since known…

Before the sirens deafened my ears,
you had already made yourself very “REAL”…
I can hear the glass shatter, still to this day…
All I want is for you to go away…

You steal me from the ones that love me…
Hold me prisoner, and make it hard to sleep…
If I could banish you from all,
surely you know that you’d be just that…

Life can’t be had without you,
I remember the time when
I knew nothing of you…
or your relentless attacks…

You take so much from me and mine…
I guess it’s not completely in vain…
Your strength lets me know that

 I’m still alive…

 

A Perfect Heart

Sitting alone with my notebook
Outside the sky is dark
I am wondering…
what it would feel like
If I had a perfect heart?

How would I handle it…
At the end of the day?
Who decides…
what a perfect heart is anyway?

Words and sometimes actions
Can hurt worse than
any medieval torture weapon

Do the scars imposed by others
Take away from the perfection?
What about the ones that
are self inflicted?
Amplified by misdirection?

The tissue does have a
tendency to toughen after that

Do they begin as perfect,
or are we born with our own mark?
One that makes us follow the
paths that we all walk?

Wouldn’t it be nice sometimes
to wrap it in an invisible cloak?
I’m not sure, but
I think that might help
with the lumps that come up in our throats.

An ideal heart of perfection…
existing in a word of sanity or logic?
If it does, I think it comes in the form of
Accidental handprints
left by a miniature Picasso
on my hardwood floor

Or by the over-protective,
snuggle bug boy…
Who is too grown up to call for “Mommy”
So, he calls for… “Mom”

A perfect heart
goes beyond bruises and scars
It cannot be mended by cosmetics
Or hidden by a façade

As my eyelids grow heavy,
I forbade my own barbaric ways…
I have been mending
my own heart

I am thankful for
my knowledge
of acceptance,
And for the beat of
the dearest
and most perfect
of hearts.

 

Faydra Underwood is a poet, her first book will be published soon.

her Facebook page

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