they say
prolonged exposure
to sunlight
can **** you
—no wonder i
can never look
at her
for more than three seconds
without forgetting how
to breathe
Sep 29, 2016
Sep 29, 2016 at 10:51 AM UTC
so i said father, father
if i come back home with a diagnosis
instead of a mangled report card
will you look at me less
like i am a mistake?
sometimes i feel like an add math question.
the sort they like to put at the end
of the exam paper.
fifteen marks, out of forty, out of seventy, out
of a hundred, and the teacher taps
twice on the whiteboard with sharp sharp nails
and says:
here are fifteen marks. don't lose them. don't lose them.
but i am not good at math. i
cannot solve myself, don't have
the right formulas never could
make the equations stick in my head
the way your words always did,
father. like gum, like taffy, like
cigarette ashes and smoky anger.
you look at me most days
with calculator eyes
though i know you don't mean
to. are you any closer
to the answer than you were eight years ago,
in the doctor’s office?
have your batteries finally run out?
are you squinting so hard
because you can't see me anymore?
maybe you need new prescription glasses, father
like i need a new skin.
Sep 29, 2016
Sep 29, 2016 at 10:44 AM UTC
The first time I touched your face
Sensations:
Chilling warmth,
Guarded openness,
Removed proximity,
Hardened softness
You suddenly
Seemed so, so lonely
So small,
Sad,
Lost,
Empty
And I wanted to wrap my arms
Around your shoulders,
To feel more than just a square inch
Of tender skin;
Of you
I wanted to hold you tight
So tight, you couldn't have slipped away
Even if you tried to
Pull you so close,
Not even the boundless scars
Of timeless secrets
Could come between us
But I didn't,
I couldn't,
I wouldn't
Some cowardly part of me feared
That you would disappear
Fade away
Cease to be there by my side
That I'd lose you forever,
If I pushed too hard.
Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 11:09 AM UTC
They put her on an iron pedestal
And poured bronze into her veins
But her ceramic wings crumbled
And her varnish chipped
Revealing pale skin white like the moon
White like a butterlie
White like her empty insides
And she decided that she didn't
Want to be an angel anymore
But she was too short, too small
And the pedestal too high off the ground
Too far away from reality
Real cities
For her to leave
Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 10:43 AM UTC
Your voice razors against black boards
The memory of you an infected wound
Still oozing ****** tears and stinging words
(I stayed up till four a.m. whispering
To the ceiling all the things I dared not
Tell you in person)
I can not begin to comprehend what
Changed in me that day
(Had you approached me thirty minutes
Earlier I would have resembled a
Young (deluded)
Maiden in love)
All I recall is a bubble
Me trapped in that bubble
A needle that strayed too near
A POP
And tumbling out
Of "love"
(I stare at my reflection in the mirror
Trying to find the bits and pieces of
Me that you said you
Loved
I don't see anything but
A scarred (scared) girl)
You danced around the truth (inelegantly)
Tripping and stumbling and falling so often
I eventually stopped wincing each time
(Midnight approaches yet
I still fail to comprehend what it was about
Your words that I
Adored so)
My stomach lurches in disgust
The butterflies in my tummy are
A nest of vipers twisting and hissing craving
Revenge
(Your face terrifies me although you
Are no Jack the Ripper
you (are a murderer in your own right) are
Enough)
Your desperate constant trying to please me your
Relentless attempts to make me happy
Sicken me to the core I'm
Sorry
(Where did the magic and
Excitement and fluffy happiness of
The past
Go?)
I liked (loved) you once
(Please don't show your face
To me ever
Again)
May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 2:02 AM UTC