July 11, 2007

Two Poems On Tea Parties and Ghosts

The First Tea Party: Written in a Fit of Bitternes
Toward a Boy Undeserving of My Emotions
(April 6, 2007)

No, I won't stop apologizing for things that aren't really my fault
Because maybe it amuses me when you're just a little upset at my insecurities.
Maybe I want you to feel bad, because you never cared to before
And maybe I don't see that you ever even cared before at all.
Maybe the blood rushing from my face and my fingers turning to ice
Is just a reaction to your inability to take anything seriously.

Maybe ghosts are just too hard for me to have tea with
I can't sit across the table and smile when it's fake.
One lump or two, it never really mattered to me at all.
Although the scones were always my favorite,
I can't go on with things when I don't care, even though I know you can.
What makes it worse is, I know that I don't deserve you.
This has nothing to do with sour grapes.
I don't deserve you.

But I don't deserve another cup of tea, either.
And you're just going on with it because you like the taste.

The Final Tea Party: My Declaration of Independence
From Boys Undeserving of my Emotions
(July 11, 2007)

Some will leave you, but they will never leave you whole
They'll listen, but never really be able to hear
(Meaning they hear, but they'll never really care)
They'll call you worthless and push you away

Your ghosts will invite you to tea
Sporting somethings similar to character
Just as strong as their weakly brewed darjeeling
And strength just as pale as their pekoe stained with milk
Calling for two lumps instead of one to sugarcoat the truth.

These spirits will betray you
Lying to your face about what they could or couldn't be
Secretly saying "You're too good, but not good enough for me"
They'll send out the crisp invitations with only your name on the list

But if tea is any indication of character
And tea parties are the shindig of the posthumous,
I think I'll stick with coffee from now on--
The fresh, mellow energy... the strength that keeps you alive.


Terry M. Goodwin said...

OK - the timestamp on the post means you were probably the one that kept waking me up last night but I guess you needed to "express yourself".

I am really appreciating the Coffee part of the last poem right now.

Jessica R. Goodwin said...

It was Kikka... Don't blame me. I was quietly reading Animal Farm and processing eBay orders. :-P

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