Sammi’s Weekender #250 (mannequin)

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No, no, no.

She didn’t know,
she couldn’t see my loss,
drained of outward expression,
emotionally spent, I sat — still,
a heartless, brainless mannequin,
my skin ripped by her words.
I was not, as she accused,
an automaton. I loved her.

My brain and heart were not sapped,
but hope seemed impossible.
Suicide seemed the only answer,
an escape from daily pain, the way home,
to bring order to irreversible chaos.

My mind: bleak, grim, sullen:
I walked to window,
I cried, broken, never again to be me.

Look both ways.
Reality isn’t always as it seems.
Mind the gaps, nothing is perfect.
Into every life, some sadness, some love, some hope, some loss.

17 thoughts on “Sammi’s Weekender #250 (mannequin)

  1. Hard to “like” this one. Reality is often not what it seems. Those who suffer from depression can often be one word, gest, moment from crossing that forever line.
    Written so well, Bill.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, Dale.
      I have been told that we each have our own “reality.” Indeed, life, the ultimate reality; and some poetry, can be too dark (sad, frightening) to like. Not one to embroider on the family pillow.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I understand. Lilke Rochelle. 🙂
        Me? Walk, Thoughts, Silence. The cardio is when I am able to run or when I find a good workout 😉

        Liked by 1 person

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