Only I know how my heart feels, <br />to lose from the beginning <br />and gain slowly, to give away <br />with both hands. <br /> <br />Days when I listen and speak, <br />but stand back. To enter rooms <br />that fall silent. The withering looks <br />and absentminded curiosity. <br /> <br />The cascading loneliness, <br />the deluge of expectations, <br />the grades and judgments <br />which leave me empty. <br /> <br />The feeling is not new, <br />but expressing the feeling is new; <br />I write more often in my diary book, <br />scribble to myself, gawk at myself, <br />fix a permanent record of what I know. <br /> <br />I smile like a man from the country <br />wearing the wrong clothes in the city. <br />Or when you leave work early <br />but miss your train and rest <br />on a bench in the idle station.<br /><br />Bernard Henrie<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/black-man-carrying-an-alligator-briefcase/
