I No Longer Mattered (First Draft)

This isn’t my best work. It definitely requires refinement. However, on occasion, the pen starts moving and the raw emotion pours forth. I don’t think I’ve opened the spigot yet, not at full capacity, but you oftentimes have to let the rust and shit spew before the water comes out clean. I’m no world-renowned poet, which means I can give you a glimpse into this side of writing.

So, here it is: Raw, unrefined, and full of rust and shit.


Part I

You were hard to walk away from

Until I felt that I no longer mattered

I spilled and spewed the very depths of my existence,

Revealing the irrepressible nature of my fears and shining light into my anguish.

My naked soul laid trembling in despair as one by one

I stripped it of its armor and exposed all the demons.

I gave you all of my poetry when there was none to write, for you were the first to become my paper with no pencil.

Stripped free, the words poured forth from my fingers to your eyes, my mouth to your ears.

O, and how blinded I had become by the elephant in front of me,

The wrinkled grey of love, overshadowing the world as my face stared in.

Part II

The camera pans back, aperture opening, revealing ambiguity.

I spilled to the one while you spilled to the many.

Plentiful are the followers -seeing the images and shielded from inside- full of kind words, infatuation, physical attraction, and regards.

Everyone is there for you in some fashion, showering you with replies and conversation.

I stared at empty notifications -the burden of technology- like the empty mailbox and the quiet phone. The faceless face of passersby, seeing but not.

While I struggled, a gaping hole formed in my mind’s eye, left unfilled by even the simplest daily, “Hi.”

I… the asshole… another who doesn’t understand. Do not speak your feelings, heathen, for it tastes like a wine.

I gave all that you sought, loving compassion and daily attention,

whilst you revealed to be exactly he which you claim to loathe.

What can I believe as the elephant moves farther away and the world around me comes in to view?

It was the game: me being everything you said you wanted… I got too close.

You showed me the one you wished to leave behind.

Oh, yes, you were hard to walk away from…

Then, I realized that I never really mattered anyway.


Published by Shaun M. Wilkinson

Poet. Author.

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