when you become
storm #1
i remain as a simple
cottage
at the foot of the hill
i draw my own
blue butterflies
fluttering
on the purple
bushes
of my garden
when you become the
darkness of
my night
i invent a hundred
fireflies
on that tall tree
in my mind
i tell you
i am wise and numb
and has become
too creative
because of you
i can be anything now
and you have become
nothing to me
when i take a glimpse of
what you are doing
you become a black fish
on the bowl
if i want to
i could have pushed that bowl
on the edge of the table
and you should have been
a minute part
of that
tragedy.
RIC S. BASTASA
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/when-i-become-wise-and-numb/
