Poem Two

Untitled Criticism

I cannot recall
if the wildness of your curls
undermined or reinforced
the sanctimony
of your ranting.
Did they betray
your incessant self-assuredness?
How cool you kept yourself,
your emotions held neatly to your breast
never indulging your suffering
(until you did).
Was the idea to be invulnerable?
to be ever reasonable?
To use logic as a lifebuoy?
How does that work?
I need you to explain it to me
because all I’ve ever been is
a fury of emotion.

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