Multifaceted

Multifaceted

A Poem by Brigid Cooley

Some people have constellations in their pockets;

I prefer to keep shooting stars in vintage lockets, tucked away in kitchen drawers and hidden underneath bed frames.

I have been told that I have a wandering heart and steady eyes.

A boy by any other name could smell just as bad, so you should keep your escape route ready.

I learned that the hard way.

Nowadays, it's as though no one can just be honest.

Tell me to my face and trust me, I promise, we'd be able to avoid the "fake news" cycle.

Writers sings the blues because at least melodies can't be spiteful.

Don't act like I'm being demanding.

Not responding to a text isn't me being rude, it's you not understanding that people have to take turns.

And for once, I don't care if my words burn the eyes that are reading them.

I wrote these words for the person who's really needing them.

This one is for me.

Look, all my feelings lined up on a phone screen.

Go ahead and over analyze them,

Maybe you'd learn to compromise then.

And by the way, I'm not always okay.

That's just something I like to say to keep the tears away.

Look closer next time;

I only ever rhyme when you should have already listened.

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