I run hot and cold, sweet and sour, sometimes naughty
Even haughty, blunt too, rarely nice but often true
I run my errands in blackest black or very blue
But only in the darkest hue
I have withdrawn from most of life,
To feign a certain cool disdain
Avoiding strife, and it's illusion
Yet believe that this protects
Me from myself, and hide I do
Despite a need for human contact
I run, I run, I run from you
©2010 Peggy Pendleton
3 comments:
oh my god this rings so close to my own soul
check this out -
http://www.cs.rice.edu/~ssiyer/minstrels/poems/298.html
"There's a cool web of language winds us in,
Retreat from too much joy or too much fear:
We grow sea-green at last and coldly die
In brininess and volubility."
No, No Utah Savage! Don't don't run away!
Oh, wait... That's meant to be metaphorical, right?
Very nice poem, by the way.
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