Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
I just think
You might have not
Gotten
What I meant to say
In the way I said it
Written very late at night
My Dearest Molly Anne,
I hope you are now satisfied
With the sinking bags under my eyes and
The empty gap between my thighs, I hope
You know I can no longer sleep
Without you to rock me through the slow-rolling lake,
And sing your song of a thousand sheep.
You've started throwing
Thick red waves into my sink and
Messed with my ability to think and
Darling, you pull me
Under miles and miles of freezing sea
And you take and you take,
Never satisfied.
Why is the music industry showered in riches while
Doctors and nurses are left in ditches though
They save lives and music, you--
Well, I suppose music saves lives too but
Oh, not mine.
No, no, no, see I
'm
On a stage but they've all got their eyes shut and
Their heads are swaying side to side but Oh!
Oh, oh oh no I see a
Nother gay man hanging by the church's steeple and I
Don't think I've ever seen this many angry white people
And I'm not sure why no one's being called,
Maybe it's as it always is, the rich are bored and
The poor are just another board game to them but I yell:
"People! Look over there there's a
Man in need, look close and you can see they've even killed
The crown of flowers in his hair" But
No one looks, no one gives a single care.
Not when they're all dying, no,
Not when there's no cure, only distraction
Dialing the speed back on a train destined to tumble off a cliff see
Nothing matters
When everyone's dying.
It was funny how
Before her summer of fourteen
Her life became
A longing dream
Small waist,
Big hips,
Double Ds,
Thigh gap,
An hourglass.
E, t, c.
This was her list and the time,
Time
Tick---
Tick---
Ticked away like grains of sand and salt
The scale reads one five zero.

She had a
Banana for breakfast, just one:
Yellow and clammy,
The way her skin had become and yet it was
Cool and smooth to the touch.
Milky. Like that dancer's dying eyes
After the teacher had told her to drop a few pounds.
Well, now she hangs a few pounds.
Just for a few pounds.
Toes pointed perfectly.

Do you like
How she floats now?
Are her little freckled arms
Light at her sides now?
Angelic, you wanted, and angel you now have.
Held up by a halo of rope around her 14-year-old throat.
I hope you still get a chance to watch her dance from hell.
She must have
The largest heart
For I have been pouring into it liters of love
As of four years now
And it still has not been filled.
Is that it?

Or has she no heart at all?
Perhaps I'm pouring my love aimlessly into her blood
But blood flows to her feet, blood moves through her mind
She does not show it.
Could she be bloodless? All pale and porcelain?

No, I think her heart
Must be filled with holes.
Through which the love I pour,
Stems through.

If she'd just let me in...
Maybe I could mend it.
And if I fail,
I'd like my love back, please.
Thank you.
If this infinite cage
Means your undying love
Then give me the key.

Sure, I'm pretty on the eyes
But don't shade mine,
I need to see.

I've told you before
To let go,
to set me free

You say I don't understand.
But if I want to know
I've got to flee.

I don't want your love,
I want wings.
Don't clip them, let me be.

I'll be home by high tea.
Anyone can lie.
I'm not coming home.
I've seen mine, now accept your reality.
It all started in my second-story room.
A quiet summer night, not a single sound,
And then a loud boom.

I looked out the window for a better view
And rushed down to the kitchen, out the patio door, and onto the deck
Because what I saw in the sky reminded me of you
A small chill nipped at my neck, and I wondered,
Could you be remembering me too?

Because with every reverberation a star shot through the sky.
A shimmering burst, like a fiery blossom, every one of its blooms.
But it lingers for just a moment, and then it disappears.

Remember when we believed that if we swung high enough we might be able to fly?
Remember when we thought we could be artists and authors by just the age of sixteen?
Now all we do is sit and sigh, waiting on the Wifi,
Telling ourselves that the dreams we had were just unachievable little schemes.

They say you moved to Spain.
Three years ago, I heard.
Tell me, did that rid you of your pain?
And don’t lie, because I know, behind closed doors for your mother you cry, because Cancer had her killed.

And I might have found a lover.
And you’ve probably found another.
And we might feel fine as of now, but someday,
Just like the pyrokinetic flowers that bombard the night sky,
My memories of you will fade away.
I just wanted to say goodbye.
Next page