The difference between blood and water lies not in the consistency, but in the
glorious truth that water comes with
Blood binds me, ties me to
But it binds me, nonetheless.
Blood comes with baggage, with history,
with future, and with family arguments,
most of which are held in my head.
Blood comes with love and with pain and with
and strangers who once were more
until they decided that sometimes
blood just isn’t thick enough.
Blood comes with a heavy responsibility
to remain loyal to what was in order
to maintain appearances because
it’s just easier to lie to ourselves
with strained smiles for our public
and save the bitching for when
the appropriate backs
Blood comes with a silence so loud
that we must laugh louder
to drown out the sound of
words left unspoken.
So I choose water when blood remains
the only tie.
Because sometimes, blood just isn’t
I originally posted this poem in January of 2010 and came across it in my archives while on the hunt to find words worthy of a repost. Maybe I'll be funny next week. For now, this is the inside of my head before the Prozac kicks in.