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Poetry: Under wraps

by Tara Jacoby

Created on: September 03, 2011

I seek a cure which exists not.
But its shadow here, remains.
It offers a glimpse into long awaited self love, inner peace and a sweet lack of rage.
It offers for a moment, but the effects will not remain.
For the disorder is too far gone now. And help has come too late.
Still, I want to remember. So I can have my peace.
Without the recollection, I know I can no longer be.


A lifeless, soulless shadow.. for no longer can I feel.
Please come, my tears, my pain and fear ... allow me to be real.
A life spent in a prison. The bars I made myself.
A robot of a person. A hollow.. empty shell.
Call in to me, dear mother. For I near my very end.
Make your peace now, do not falter. For I'll not return again.
My sweet friend had her hair dyed. Black as a starless night.
Her lips as dark as blood so red.
I'm just like you now. She adorably said.
And I thought, "Good, I won't be missed.".
I breathed a sigh of relief in advance, for the day I'll not exist.
"Now take my place, little sweet girl.
So new to this disgusting world.
Smile at pain, and welcome the rain.
And never be unfurled."
My house empties for the weekend.
Mine is a helpless fear.
For I’ll be all alone again.
Left to my blind and saddened will.
A trip abroad awaits me. Please God, let me see that day.
For of it I've always dreamed.. in the most fairytale like way.
He and I, side by side. Overlooking the bluest sea.
Our hearts connected, speech neglected.. alone, just him and me.
I cannot stay, beloved… and I fear your deepest pain.
For the breath which breathes me, also disgusts me-
and I cannot remain.
If only I could tell you. I'd speak, of how bad I feel.
I’d let you know I’m lost.. so lost.
My chains you’d break, my rope uncross.
You’d bring me to life again.

You'd remind me of how I'm your only friend.
And your love for me is real.
And maybe I'd believe that I was meant to be.
Maybe I'd be able to feel.
What kind of a friend, "other half",  or lover "to the end"-
could allow their mate sweet blindness, as they suffer a need to transcend?
What kind of person could keep this kind of torment under wraps?
One who's slipped far too far away by now, perhaps.

Learn more about this author, Tara Jacoby.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.

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