Salty undertones of emotions that rot within me, ignored love triangles discarded into the depths of my mind to be saved when I am reminded of them on my lovers wedding day, although it is not me he is vowing his life too. I miss the moments between us the loud, soft, noiseless moments of our love written by my quill pen the tips of it bleeding onto the parchment paper. I could write our love story in a hundred poems, but in my voice I can only tell you emotionless how I loved you one day and then did not the next. I am one for words on paper but the words from my mouth are incomprehensible covered by years of lying and abuse, cocooned by my own psychological reins. It doesn't make sense but that is how we left one another. Without notice and unpredictable like the hurricanes that roll in from the warm oceans and obliterate thousands.
The flowered bed sheets of the motel where we lay he showed no mercy on the Atlantic coast used me again and kissed me.
I only remembered the oceans roll and the visions of a unshaved beard, the feeling of dread when he locked the door and unzipped his jeans.
Sandcastle fell over and the sharks swam away watching the walkway from the motel bedroom, waiting for him to come back an let me out.
This is a ****** of a child's innocence and he held it over the seas the shadow of my life changes into bone until my ****** becomes a whole other being, so powerful it gave me an STD at the age of 11. Thoughts are doubled in my head and the dark air has no name.
I call out for who may be there but nobody answers, only the step-step-stepping of my uncle coming in the motel for more.
Purple aftershave on the corners of his lips, hairs trimmed and a gloss over the skin, peeking through the surface. Mirror ***** streaked with water a damp towel hanging over the basin.
I saw him in town today, standing on the street corner with his hands in his pockets waiting for the cross guard to let him walk. I ran so fast that the temporary glue I used to piece together major organs so that I could live, but live without emotion, grew loose. I put myself together again with washi tape from my kindergarten backpack. Placing them over the cuts his razor left between my legs.
I told myself that I would always be me before I remember that for 3 years I was yours. But right now the skies are grey and the scent your aftershave stings my nostrils. You made me kiss you on the cheek on the sickly smooth skin, you made me grow up too fast.
I set the closet where he kept me on fire with myself inside of it, deciding to burn with the ******* house instead of watching it from afar.
Knock on the old wood he opens the door to a room filled with smoke.
With our heads over the starboard of the boat trip we took taunting tropical storm Fay on the port and our dresses in the wind. He watched from the captain's chair, pistol in his hand. Salty seas hinder our vision of the man in the watchtower turning him into a blur on the vast expanse of grey skies and rotting wet wood.
Angry crew-children with their bodies touched, banging on the stained glass door to his room where the little girl looks through the marbled blue with tears on her cheeks. Laughing at the confrontation, sent back to work.
Gathering lobster and lost time, both of them scream in the boiling ***. Escaped breath from incestuious embraces return to lungs and we find out that we can scream too, the boiling *** is overturned dripping off the starboard where we stand.
Lightning bolt touches the flag above his head causing chemical reactions to develop into a spark. Flames at the back engulf the wheel the children blister their hands grasping onto the lines as Fay rolls through, lightning after thunder rain never ending. Chaos perspiring on the ship he calls the battalion to secuestrar the children.
The battalion is overturned at the punch, bruise left on grey skin. Captain blubbering with lies the fire heat on his back. Rotting wood is burning, we cover our noses with bandanas and letters marked for Groton. The tide rises waves overtake the port, splashing onto the starboard where the victims jump into the black water uncertainty chilling them.
Swimming to Key West with the dolphins on our back the fiery ship burns in the distance the captain tied to a chair of ******* and lines untouched, denying allegations until his heart is charcoal and all that's left is a charred body smelling of ****** and aftershave. The starboard side is empty causing imbalance to the ship.
Dripping tears and sea water, walking through the streets, we lower our bandanas and hold the letters close to our hearts. Searching for the sun that will lead us home.