Laughing Is Allowed

I feel your pain primate,
(don't cry in front of the children).
There are things that no one can relate to.
I have so much fun and feel so alone.
Its nobody's fault.

I wander about my home on the verge of tears.
All the time is too much.
I'm satisfied in all ways but one.
I can put my finger on it, but it doesn't come up.
My desires are stiffing; impaired beyond comprehension.

Not so much as a pill can fix what ales me.
So I chill at night and pretend I'm fine.
Though its not - and there is no repairing its absence.
It goes beyond the realm of intimacy;
existing in separateness.
Behind different doors at different times.

No need to conceal secrets behind them.
We think but never out loud.
We understand quietly; in private.
What would happen if we were to speak?
I can't tear myself from the chair,
I find comfort internally and in “Times New Roman”;
unspoken words. Laughing is allowed.

By Elizabeth A. Hall