Good Intentions

I can't stop thinking , feeling,

although you want me to.

My spirit's hurt and bleeding;

it contaminates,seeps through.



How huge the effort taken,

just going to work each day,

trying to concentrate on my tasks,

while keeping tasks at bay.



So when I leave the office,

the tears and pain swoop back.

The control I've kept on feelings,

released,tight bars relaxed.



Since evenings are my times to feel,

it's hard to stop again,

put them aside and listen,

to"who did what and when."



It's friendly conversation,

and you wish for me to join,

but in holding back my sadness,

I'm walled off too,from joy.



So I sit and staunch the bleeding

that no one else can see.

As the talk goes on around me,

I disappear quietly.

By
Genesse Bourdeau Gentry
Stars in the Deepest Night