Absurdity and Untitled

This is one of those pieces where I'm pretty sure the author was taking this seriously and actually liked her poems. I never know what to comment on this as I know nothing of actual poetry, plus I don't want to be pooping on anyone's actual feelings.

Black was really nice. I wonder whatever happened to her? Her real name was Kris and we never met in person.We were pen pals back when that meant using an actual pen.

Absurdity

By Black

Sitting in the darkness

Blood trickles from my eyes

Only to turn to tears

Whenever you see me cry

Nothing left for me to do

I turn to you, but then you disappear

I touch the air you were just there

It’s still warm but then again

My mind is not clear

In the forest by the water

Your face reflected in the stream

Look again, it’s just a fish

As I wake up from a dream

Nothing left for me to be

This is just absurdity

But isn’t it the only way?

I;m going to go ahead and add the other poem Black had on this issue, since I have the same problem on not knowing how to comment on this one either.

Untitled

By Black

This is pretense

This is not my life

Or what I imagine

My life to be

It is not a hot fever dream

On a hotter summer day

This is not a faerie tale

This is not a song

But the most elaborate lie

I ever told

Or even…Believed