Doubt is like a lying child:
you know you just can't trust it
but you have to, sometimes.
Back in high school we used to fight all the time
(forgotten phone calls, he said she saids)
Only years later did I realize it was just
my boredom manifested as an entity
like Santa Claus, a god
that shapes the little lives of mortals.
I'm not sweet stupid sixteen anymore, so
I carry a thermometre pressed to my heart,
red marks on my ring finger where I pinch
over and over to see if it's real.
I'll smile when sunlight coaxes me
and sigh and ask Why
can't it always be happy times?
though a wiser part of me knows
I need the sad times
to appreciate times like these.
This poem was written in response to the Poetry Prompt on Big Tent Poetry.
Photo by David R. Tribble
I didn't know what image to put with this, so enjoy some clouds and sunlight.
Are you the kind of person who listens more to their heart or head? If you listen to both at different times, how do you decide when to listen to one or the other?