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    "In a word, Clint. Poetry."

            I’m trying like hell to decide what to post. I’m stuck in a place right now where the juices aren’t flowing very well. There’s plenty inside of me, but none of it’s coming out the way I want it to; like a big, juicy mango of thoughts and feelings with all the succulent nectar trapped inside.
            In times like these, I’ve found it best not to force anything. But I want to keep adding fresh content as often as possible, because I know that’s a key ingredient to a good blog. So what do I do?
            Suddenly, it hits me. Long forgotten words spoken by my sophomore English teacher at Villanova, Mr. Mitchell. I’ve long forgotten my question, but I’ll never forget his answer. “In a word, Clint. Poetry.” Of course. Poetry.
            Through the years, I’ve written lots of poetry. Most of it, nobody’s ever read. It represents some of my most passionate writing, but it also shows me at my most vulnerable. So I’ve resisted sharing it.
            But if I’m not so concerned about being vulnerable anymore, then the only thing stopping me is fear. Fear that nobody will like it. Fear that I’ll look like a sissy. Fear of...whatever. Well fuck the fear. Just like pain, the only way out is through.


    I used to watch her sleep
    And I envied how peaceful she looked
    I wanted to wake her and say "I see you"
    But didn't want to disturb the place she found so soft

    When she would snuggle next to me
    And place her beautiful warm body into mine
    I would sink into a peace that I could not hold onto
    Unless she was lying next to me
    A peace that I could feel
    But could not touch
    Unless I was touching her

    Whenever she left, I would run upstairs and watch her car leave my driveway
    My heart would sink as I watched her drive away
    And then I would do anything not to feel that pain

    I wanted to run towards love
    I wanted to run towards her
    But I just stayed where I was
    Yearning for more
    But unable to risk asking

    So many things she wanted
    And needed
    I wanted
    I needed
    But I could not bring myself to tell her
    Because I was afraid to feel what I already knew
    I was in love with her
    And that was something I could not be

    Because being in love with her meant pain
    And heartache
    And that I could not bare
    I had already suffered more heartache and pain than I knew possible
    To love her meant to lose her
    I could not lose her
    For I had already lost more than I knew I had
    So I could not be in love with her
    But I already was...


    ©2009 Clint Piatelli. All Rights (and a poetry book of Wrongs) reserved.

    Reader Comments (2)

    That was beautiful. Just . . . breathtakingly . . . beautiful.

    February 4, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterKim

    From the bottom of my heart Kim...Thank You. Knowing that there are readers like you who are moved by my writing is honestly one of the main reasons I do this. More than anything, I want to touch people, make a difference, impact people's lives, and contribute something, big or small. Your support is positively priceless.


    February 4, 2009 | Registered CommenterClint Piatelli

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