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 May 2017 Adelle Stone
JayneDoh
I feel apart of this hick town place
Breathing in life, through open, clean air
Trapped by my mind in a wide open space

My granddad showed me on his Gum tree
The marks left by moths and beetles alike
I went to touch them whilst he let them be

The Scribbly Gum tells the same story
Our lives intertwined in memories
The aftermath of destruction, can be beauty

My chubby hands admire what my eyes miss
like a blind man hungry for the verse
I feel the indented trails, lead me into the abyss

I envy those tiny critters, hiding away
creating art without even knowing
One day I shall  join them and there I shall stay

Dancing glimpses of times past
The smell of eucalyptus sticking to hot air
Pulling, aching strings of my childish heart
Find complete novel containing this poem and others at https://www.wattpad.com/story/105612784-scribbly-gum
The sun,
The shine,
The light blue skies.

The kisses,
The hugs,
The sweet sign of love.

The heart,
The eyes,
The light of my soul.
She was leaning against the white stucco wall with a cigarette between her teeth.
Her long black skirt kissed the concrete as she fidgeted.
No one would ever call her innocent.
No one called her sweet.
She blew a thin cloud of smoke into the air.
It swayed in the wind and curled around her hair.
She closed her eyes and waited.
16 long years had gone by since her beginning.
If she wished hard enough, maybe another 16 would go by in a blink.

The photograph of her sits on the rickety table in her very first apartment.
A freshly burned cigarette stews in the ash tray on the table.
She smiles, looking at herself. Knowing what she thought then.
Knowing what she knows now.
She closes her eyes and waits. For another 16 years to pass her by.
 May 2017 Adelle Stone
Monotone
The Earth was bright. As she spoke her eyes were vibrant,
And her words enthusiastic.
Her face was full of expression,
Her life was full of meaningless worries.

The moon shadowed the Earth. Her eyes became dark,
Her words became dull.
Her face is full of contempt,
Her life is full of complications.

The Earth is pitch black. Her eyes are closed,
Her words are silenced.
Her face is now full of amity,
Her life is now emptied of demur.

The Earth is slowly lighting up. Her eyes are opening,
Her words are whispers.
Her face is full of confusion,
Her life is full of memories.

The Earth is bright. Her eyes are opened,
Her words are proud.
Her face is full of comprehension,
Her life is full of contentment.
When I was a kid,
Whenever the word, 'Ouchy" was used, my mother would rush to my assistance.
At the age of three, I realized that every time I said that golden word, my mother would come.
So I decided to keep saying it.
I craved my mother's attention.
I would scream, "Ouchy" as if I had just lost a finger.
She would run to me and I would only smile.
"Only kidding* I would say.
But see, now I realize that that's gone.
It wont be coming back any time soon.
See because now I'm on my own.
I look out the window,
see how the sun and the moon revolve around each other.
like a budding friendship,
swayed by the moon,
where the sun is hot
and the moon is bright.
Just like the way my mom used to make me feel.
The more I've grown
the more I realize,
hell, I need my mother
Because now if I say Ouchy!
no one gives the slightest bit of a ****
When I was young,
when responsibilities where irrelevant,
when "ouchy" was my call-sign
I abused it. I abused that time.I used it for personal gain.
Now, I'm a nobody.
Doesn't feel good now that I'm an average citizen.
I have a story,
I used to tell my mother "ouchy" for her attention.
But so did the other hundred people behind me in the welfare line.  
Now, average faces in these average places are meaningless.
I walk the same streets I did when I was a kid, hand in hand with my mother.
With her, every pace seemed to be an adventure.
With her, every place was a new sight, even if I had been in the pizza shop a billion and one times.
So now I stand in the very same pizza shop
standing on the same tile floors
with the same smell of rising doe and pepperoni dancing in the air.
Walking in,
I wasn't paying attention and shoulder-checked the door
and felt myself whisper "Ouch"
Amazingly enough,
mom wasn't there.
She didn't **** out of the clouds, with an epic crash as she executed a perfect landing, her cape flowing in the wind.
No, instead, as a tear hit my cheek,
(because I did hit it hard)
No one even looked back.
Instead I just waltzed straight in.
Ordered my childhood favorite pizza
(pepperoni & mushrooms)
and took it home.
Couldn't help but to keep whispering, Ouchy, Ouchy
It felt so weird to say it again.  
Even weirder
To simply have no one respond
So this is just a weird way of saying
thanks mom, for covering my every ouchy
even if,
they *weren't real
To Mom
Her smiles were all questions.
Her lips would part as if they weren't quite sure they should.
If she laughed, it was a cautious one,
Escaping out before it could be kept inside
For interrogation.
And there was still a twinkle in each eye,
Two radiant stars.
But their shine was so temporary,
Ready to be extinguished if they were found to not belong.

She smiled the way most people dip their foot into the water of a pool
That might be too hot or too cold.
Like whatever she thought was funny or cute or beautiful
Might not really be.
The world might be too hot or too cold.
And if her smile was a little too genuine,
A little too certain,
Maybe then SHE would be found
To not belong.

I think that when she loved me,
It was a question.
I think that there was still a twinkle,
But it was temporary.
I think she dipped her foot in,
And for once, it wasn't too hot or too cold.

But she couldn't trust that.
She couldn't trust her instincts,
Her feelings,
Her mind.
She couldn't trust that what she saw
Was reality,
Thinking, maybe, she was just caught in some strange dream of a strange world of strange people.
Or maybe, it wasn't a dream,
And everything and everyone were normal.
And she was strange.
She couldn't decide which would be worse.

So she smiled at me
A question.
And when I smiled back,
She had an answer.

When she loved me
A question.
I wish I would have given her an answer.
Everyday there is a boy or girl feeling different
Today I feel like a pair of shoes
A pair that you leave under your bed
under clothes, under a pile of dirt where no one can see
There is days when I can see from under
See others play games play a movie
Throw a party with friends
But every time I'm out and can see
I go back under the bed under everything under everyone and just hide
Hide away from everyone from everything and it's like I'm that pair of shoes that someone payed for at that store where there are many more better shoes but for some reason the ones you payed for with the last of your allowance were not the ones you intended to buy
So then your back to being under a bed
under clothes, under a pile of dirt where no one can see Under the bed because you feel like no one wants you or needs you anymore
Under the bed where no one sees you or knows you exists
Because under the bed is where you belong and no one can pull you out of ....
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