PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Suppression or compression of feelings isn’t natural, and yet, it seems necessary. “It’s learned behavior” she tells me, but she wasn’t witness to the disgust on his reddened face. 

He buried his disappointment in my chest with his eyes.  All I could smell was my fear, mixed with Copenhagen, and his bitter beer breath.   

Real men have both harsh reactions and expressionless responses to their kids.  “It’s a learned behavior” she tells me, but she never felt his compassionate back hand. 

My testicle finally descended but the lump in my throat was still there.  In this family, laughing about spilled jello is like laughing about cancer. 

Life offers many delicious flavors of expression but I’m used to oatmeal.  “It’s learned behavior” she tells me, but she always wore makeup and I wore the scars.

His finger bore deep through my chest puncturing my spirit.  His words cut me at the legs and disfigured my face.

This is not as simple as A+B = C.  “It’s learned behavior” she tells me, but she never had a pair of shoes like mine.

“Miss Know It All” has plenty of accomplishments on the wall.  “It’s learned behavior” she tells me, but she forgets that life lived is life learned. 

She asks me “What is your definition of love?”  And I answer “confusion”.