Poison Control


Silence my pen
this effort of control
felt. Loudly.

My every word
of course, go ahead.
Layers of codependency
grieved, my pain
never fully heard.
Redheaded and unique
Poets, better of alone or together?
then, apologizing
no longer the poison I’m willing to drink.


32 thoughts on “Poison Control

  1. You write of something that bounced into quite a bit: “better of alone or together?” Be it work, and especially with photography, I do what I do best when wrapped up in my own little world ~ which then allows me to pursue the real world (if that makes any sense at all).

    Long ago, I gave up “Explaining then, apologizing” and it worked, people understood and in a sense it was all agreed upon that the frustration was “no longer the poison I’m willing to drink.” Or perhaps more aptly put, the poison no one wanted to see me struggle drinking πŸ™‚

    One thing about poetry, is finding the meaning as it pertains to me ~ wishing you a good week (and a great start to the summer).


  2. Perhaps ALL writers are misunderstood at least once in a while, Audrey. No matter, my friend. Write on anyway! Poets, especially, need to set down their feelings — and we know feelings should never be judged as “right” or “wrong.” Right?!


  3. *tips hat* Evenin’, Ma’am. Here, *slides whiskey bottle across table* Feel this raw offering.
    Oh, I just have to add, those are some strange seagulls.

    Liked by 1 person

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