I chose this poem for my weekly homework for the poetry class because this poem really resonates with me. And can be worn for so many a situation - love dying, love lost, relationships between lovers, friends, parent and child .This poem is like a well worn sofa, I can find my shape in it …I could have written it myself. This is not gong to be like most of my reviews as I recognise in you one who can appreciate the different and who withers under the neon white of conformity and boxes. …

It seems there is always pain  when I think of you   I close my eyes to shield them  from the loudness of your words

This part sparkles in shades of my mother for me. Even with oceans between us the shards of her words move in me from time to time like shrapnel. Those words proved a far grater poison then any physical damage she caused …

I say too much but am never heard I'm walked over by the pounding of feet  with a painful throb

Have been here more then I would like to admit. It is odd how the wild and usually free can become so small in the shackles of uncaring hands or the oblivious who cannot see out of the close confinement of their boxes. They never understand that, that what is wild can never be truly tamed and that any semblance of domestication is a gift that becomes barbed wire around the heart of the wild one when the gift is desecrated by irreverent clumsy idiots who think they put you in a collar …

Stop sucking the air from the room  so that I may catch my breath My tongue is swollen  my heart is burning

Sadly most of my relationships were like this. People holding me to tight, wanting to turn me into a Stepford person. Throwing projections at me strangling me with need and flogging me with expectations I never consented to.  

I'm sending smoke signals You’re picking my bones clean whilst I’m still in here  trying to live

so many ways to feel this …on the one hand the feeling of being consumed alive until on feels like empty shrivelled grape skin… on the other hand there is the element of -why are you ripping hooks into me to keep me from leaving …don’t you see I am still here trying to save us even though you are slowly turning me and us into a corpse... I could be gone ..I am here -but dying…

If my head did not hurt I’d stand up and shout If my heart did not hurt I'd stand up and scream —so that you’d hear me

Again I have been there with different implications from the straight forward- I am to tired and defeated to even say anything anymore, to the I would fight back if I didn’t care but because I do, the fact that you do not see that I am wounded drains any will to say anything away ...to the exasperated- you are too stupid you make my head hurt and too callous to even make the effort to add on to the heart ache as you won’t get it anyway … in the last line lies the simple plea so many triangular pegs have in a world that barely tolerates the squares … can you see me …can you hear me … and yet most remain blind and those who aren’t just see shadows … https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QV_9pn7MGUo