Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 May 2013 madeline may
Gillian
there's a scar on my bottom lip
bruises on my memory i don't talk about...
there's too many freckles to count
constellations of moles -
nightmares gnawing on my sleep
sheep that turn to wolves
who walk behind me
whispering "look up, talk fast"...
my hips are soft
cheated by Gli Amanti's arrows
I believe in love
but I can't swing the burden
they come into your life
leaving everything important
untouched,
in its place
but certain things they change
like picture frames
at jaunty angles
these magnificent creatures
flit into our lives
and back out
so fast
you barely remember them
until drunk summer nights
at the river rock festival
they seem to line up
beneath star specked
inky skies
and the heavy blanket
of summer humidity
girls with hugs
and guys with great roars of joy
as if they had been searching for you all night
memories are remembered
new experiences embellished
before the thread of your lives
untangle once more
and they are gone
off into the chasm of darkness
indefinitely
 May 2013 madeline may
ASB
Late at night when I
talk to you,
I can feel my fingers
quietly tapping my keyboard,
and every letter is filled
with expectations;
every word is a part of me,
moments of loving you
spill onto my screen and
you won't see anything
but a casual 'good night'
or a question about your day,
you won't notice the careful
punctuation or how every
letter was typed with consideration
and love and crushed dreams.
The beauty of the modern world
is that I can love you without
you ever knowing that your
words silently break my heart.
 May 2013 madeline may
raðljóst
funny how it could all start
with one click of a camera
tilted too far to the right

one girl in a pink princess shirt
smiling, waiting, hoping for acceptance
but never receiving that gift

she looks back on that photograph
her eyes staring past the edge
so eager

she remembers the sneers and the glares
from her peers
and she smiles

because once it starts
it never ends
and she is just fine with that.
kay so this is not even proper good poetry or anything but i found my kindergarten photograph and the photographer took the picture all wrong and i am off to one side and looking into nowhere it seems
and then it hit me
that's when the separation was definite
my father had recently passed away
i was in school then
everyone else was so different
or was it me?
no one was more fascinated by the fishtank
no one as keen to make mothers day cards all day
no one as eager to play house in the forest
no one else crying behind the gym
no one else alone on the swingset
no one else beaten up on the playground
no one else picked last for every game
no one else
no one
no one
no one.

and things don't change too much.
 May 2013 madeline may
September
I lead truth like a thread
through the eye of my
needle, stitched into your iris
and sewed up the virus.
Took bets on bids.
Two kids walking train tracks under your eyelids.
Next page