What am I to you <br />Between your clenched hands? <br />I am miniscual; seeping through <br />In various shades of color... <br />Yet, it is only in your heart that <br />I am consumed in various shades of gray. <br /> <br />Upon looking at such lines, <br />What more can I say than what I have already written? <br />I am in anguish and I no longer want to speak with your adversaries, <br />And, within me I see you've grown fond of my martyr; <br />Speaking with faith... <br />I am a only a mad woman who loves you. <br /> <br />Mad, Mad, Mad... <br />Mad woman, <br />I've replaced my head with my own questionable audience... <br />And they never applaud. <br />I seek you out in the distance, <br />And your shadow is the only one that is real. <br />Somewhat billowing, and unrecognizable amongst the others. <br /> <br />What more can I say? <br />I've written of all things of life, <br />I've written of all things of death, <br />I've written of fragments, steel, and of lifeless flowers... <br />Yet, more alive than anything... <br />Is this mad heart that you so long for and adore. <br /> <br />And, so I ask... <br />What am I to you <br />Between your clenched hands? <br />Does it set you at ease and comfort <br />Such solemn grace? <br />Uprooted and seemingly yours? <br /> <br />Nonetheless, I am sick of speaking of flowers, <br />They are not that delicate... <br />I am consumed in various shades of gray <br />And because of that matter <br />What more can I say than what I have already written? <br />Speaking with faith... <br />I am only a mad woman who loves you.<br /><br />Mimi Mata<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/mad-woman-by-mimi-mata-meyer/
