poem – open

Most of the people who walked by him looked happy.
He was curious about why and about how they were
so effortlessly happy without knowing they were.
One woman even laughed, her head raised slightly,
and her eyes shined as her fingers slid her
red hair behind her ear. She and her friend seemed to be
floating as they passed by while he studied their well-being.
The bench he was sitting on felt empty. He wanted to feel full and alive
and to feel and be like the two happy women without having to
study how to be anything at all, but he didn’t know how. Even the sun
shinning down seemed to brighten everyone’s hue, but he felt none of this;
he could only see it and he knew it wasn’t for him. He wondered if anyone
noticed him; his emptiness he was trying to cure while living. He closed
his eyes and hoped when he opened them again he would feel differently.
He decided he would count to his favorite number.

-M. Taggart

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11 thoughts on “poem – open

  1. Damn, Matt. This is good. Talk about getting into someone eles’s head. I was trying to convey something like this in my last poem about the young man who was homeless and I feel like it’s trite and drivel compared to how you just got right into the feeling. I admire!

    Liked by 1 person

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