Gem Stone
If only I could give donation to her
heart,
Then maybe I’d be more charitable towards
her.
It pains me for her to be this close,
While I remain so distant,
So far inside myself,
Afraid to speak,
In case my words reverberate against me in waves of
mortification
And send me further into the mine of my
mind,
Chipping away at the rock in search of
something
That will enrich me from the darkness.
Lying
She lies for me.
She tells me how handsome I am,
How beautiful I make her feel.
She tells me how intelligent I am,
How I make her life more interesting.
She tells me I’m a joy to be with,
How she’s never been happier.
She tells me how much
she loves me,
How great I make love to her.
She lies for me.
Misunderstanding
I’ve always chased the girls
That were running from me,
Not noticing those
That stood behind me,
Rendered claustrophobic
By their proximity,
Causing me to run,
With them chasing after-
Not understanding the way I felt.
Anthony tends to fidget with his thoughts in the hope of
laying them to rest. He has managed to lay them in a number of literary
magazines including The Faircloth Review, Drunk Monkeys, Jellyfish
Whispers, Turbulence, Underground, The Autumn Sound, Torrid Literature
Journal and The Rusty Nail, amongst others.
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