When I Become Wise And Numb

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.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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