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Faceless. Romantic.
Did someone look upon my
teenage thrashings and
breathe impatiently?
Did someone read my manic
spasms of semi-conscious
literature and detect a sense of
flammable loathing?
Shallow and hopeless?
Just a child in the throes of
a violent puberty.
A shameful wildfire?
There was such eternity in
my pouting criticisms.
Who's eyes did I roll in
my fragile years?
What faceless romantic
chided and shooed away my
fevered angst?
I realize now,
I'm the one who shoo's.
I suppose I'm that...
Faceless.
Romantic.
poem
by
Eric Gibson
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