Wednesday, July 24, 2013


Some good can come of cleaning.  I finally found a poem that's been haunting the back of my mind for years.  I could never find a copy of it until now, and there was only one copy.  So I will now post it here so I will never lose it again. 

If He Knew Me

He would know without asking, when the melancholy comes on.  He would notice the way I hug myself, and the way I lean upon, the counter strewn with dishes, no desire for industry here.  He wouldn’t have to ask, “is something wrong dear?”  

He would know the well-worn path, my mind treads upon.  He would see the distant look, and know that I was gone.  He would notice the little things, the way my keys were thrown, upon the table with discarded mail, he would know, he should have known.  

He would know my heart’s desire, but dreams are never shared, with one who doesn’t really know, by one who’s really scared.  If he really knew me, he wouldn’t keep me here, a trophy for a dusty shelf, that means so little there.  

He would see my heart’s not in it, never really was, and never ask the reason why, he’d know it was because, another fills my heart, no other could hope to touch.  He’d know the melancholy, came, from hurting just too much.  

If he really knew me, then he would be the one, to comfort all my hurts, when day was finally done.  He would know my every mood, the rise and the fall.  If he really knew me, I wouldn’t be here at all.  


OldLady Of The Hills said...

What a truly spectacular poem. Hauntingly beautiful in it's honesty. I'm so glad you found it!

Vancouver Voyeur said...

Thanks. I'm glad I found it too.

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