PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Gravity. By Nikki Price Sometime in 2010

Rain pours. I turn a key and the sound of the click makes me smile. Something works, but not my life. The thunderous sound of the rain on the roof drowns out the sounds of the tv and my mind drifts away. Time passes as I sit numbly, staring out into space. Perhaps I wouldn’t exist except for the heaviness in my heart that pulls my body to the ground.
A loud click rings out – a door is opening. I jump, mumble an answer. Alone again. I’m a robot. I have no control of my life. Some force pulls the puppet strings and I move, some machine feeds out my answers and forces polite smiles onto my face. No choice, no say, just oblige to the hypocrisy. Mind shifts, starting to lose focus. Moments of nothingness. My diamond ring sparkles. Some lucky woman deserves it, some lucky couple in love. Why is it on my finger?
I am glad it’s raining. Is God crying the tears my body refuses to cry? I wish I could lie down in the rain, let the torrent wash over me, either drowning me or lifting me into the sky. Is madness so bad?
Few people would miss me now. My finger lovingly traces the contours of the face of death. Promise me it won’t be painful, okay? Will God take the ache away or make me bare it for eternity? Truth is, I’m dead already, but somehow my body lives on. Like brother Scarecrow I have no heart, for I gave mine away and never got it back. Greedy man; I smile, but it doesn’t make it to my lips. Turns out it was a gift never wanted, but nevertheless “no returns”. My heart wants to believe so bad that he was kidding, of course he loves me too – secretly, bone deep. This is how I know I am mad.
Am I hungry? Not sure. Am I tired at this wee hour of the morning? I don’t know. All I can feel is the absence of you that always makes me feel tired and my heart feel heavy. You tantalize me with friendly words, but my very soul aches for so much more. I want to know you, the ever-developing person of you, but will you let me? Some cherished moments of tender connection, then so much distance I feel pushed away. You have a life, your own life. I have dreams, memories, longings that threaten to ruin my life, my robot life. If I demolished my life for the sake of being closer to you, one of two things would happen: I would feel great happiness at following my “id” despite the fact that you would probably reject me again, or I would be more scared and alone than I am now, with no one to turn to. But the manifestation of you in my mind constantly calls out to me, giving me very little peace. It teases me, bidding me to come closer, to taste, to touch. I open my eyes and you disappear. Leave me in my dreams where my affections are returned.
But robot woman has a robot husband who gave her a big, sparkly ring. People become machines when the heart is silenced, when loyalties are not questioned, when souls form deep chasms of emptiness that echoes with desperation.
Eyelids grow heavy, breathing slows, sleep comes. Dreams begin.