Untitled Poem by Cristina Morris

I'm not so sure.
I don't know what to say.
every feeling I once had
is tortured enough to die.
They look at you and see a boy
who always has his head to the skies.
I see a man
tortured inside,
unwielding to give me a chance.
Still his eyes sing to
an unwielded soul,
the one inside of his heart.
Mind as flustered from letting her go,
still my heart cries for his pain.
So unyielding, this pit in my soul.
every moment without you makes me cold.
I feel you
when you are not here,
and I am alone.
Alone with only my thoughts to hide me.
I sit behind my mask,
a mask painted with a smile.
My smile is wrinkled
from holding position so long.
I can barely change my demeanor,
my outward appearance.
Everything they see
is a facade.

Written June 7, 2005 at 3:40 PM in Fountain, Colorado.