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Reality...
outside the door
as you close it
you say it is sunny
and the clouds are
blue and the sky is
clear like a transparency
of a class,
inside your head
there are dark clouds
and when you sleep
in bed when the heart
beats faster and faster
you see a heavy downpour
of rain as you close your
eyes as your fingers begin
to shape a fist,
the room is one empty
storage of chaos
the confusion is
spacious
and something cannot
really be filled,
unless, you retrace
some steps behind you
until, you say
i accept i have not been
loved enough and that
you have never loved
that much in
return.
poem
by
Ric S. Bastasa
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