Amidst the Crowd
Perhaps, if I did not have to
conform,
If I could do the things which
I wish to do,
And if there were no
boundaries to live within,
If only these words could leap
from this page,
And become reality...
Hoards of others; strangers
and friends,
Swarming, smiling, speaking to
me,
Yet, the only sound in my ear
is your voice,
The only sight that
exists,
Is that glint of sun in your
eyes, reflecting me...
Amidst those who do not
know,
And very few that do,
Our secret love weaves its
web,
Joining your heart,
And mine.
Away From you
I cannot have your
touch,
So my mind explores
Memories of it.
I cannot see your smile,
So my imagination
creates
That art upon your face.
I cannot hold your body,
So I embrace
My own.
I cannot feel your
breath
Upon my throat,
So I write.
I write and I write and I
write…
I fill pages and pages
and…
Napkins and paper towels and…
table cloths…
Perhaps this will
satiate
My need for you,
Maybe not.
Blank
This blank page stares at me,
pleading to be satisfied by my pen.
My pen is full and ready, my
mind empty and used.
I have not clever prose to
unravel on my page.
I have neither intriguing
poetry nor any sonnets.
Even my practical lists run
short.
I will not satisfy this
paper.
My thoughts and dreams have
stalled.
They refused to be
revealed.
I inhale my smoke and blow it
out, pondering what to do.
Perhaps, I shall allow the pen
to feel its way across this sheet,
in hopes that something will
come of it.
Then again, what good is my
incessant blabber?
Daily Impact
You cannot divorce
yourself
from
who
you are,
yet my
inter subjectivity
can
distance myself
from
me.
This
wound you have imposed
upon
my soul is
uglier
than anything I have ever encountered,
yet I
am the liar
in the
public’s view.
Why couldn’t you have slit my
skin
to
drain me of some of this blood
that
you have now poisoned?
Others would understand
if I
had some external scar,
because
they could see some evidence
of
this pain
that
you continue to cause me.
The
walls are closing in,
while
the mountains
are
growing more massive.
The
hurdles trip me up.
Time
slows to a crawl.
I will never get ahead
while
locked in this prison.
So
many things remain
unavailable
and
contentment
exists
only outside of
myself.
Effects of my Betrayal
Your fingers caress my
cheek.
Just like before.
My smile reflects yours.
Nothing has changed.
I giggle and hug you.
Everything is the same.
You envelop me in your
embrace.
All is well.
We talk and laugh.
There isn’t anything different.
I take your hand.
Nothing is wrong.
We lie down together.
Everything is fine.
Your hand strokes my
body.
You can never know.
We pull each other
close.
Heat builds inside of me, knowing the truth.
Our passion builds and
builds.
Tears fall from my eyes, hating myself.
Closer and closer we
become.
Although it is my dirty secret, you feel what I have done.
We make love for one last
time.
Silently, your heart rejects mine.
In your eyes, I see his.
You know of my betrayal.
CLS
Sandoval, PhD (she/her) is a
pushcart nominated writer and communication professor with accolades in film,
academia, and creative writing who speaks, signs, acts, publishes, sings,
performs, writes, paints, teaches and rarely relaxes. She has presented
over 50 times at communication conferences, published 15 academic articles, two
academic books, three full-length literary collections, three chapbooks, as
well as flash and poetry pieces in several literary journals. She is
raising her daughter and dog with her husband in Alhambra, CA.
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