My brittle skeleton has become an abandoned motel
and you
were its last visitor.
Why didn't you enjoy your stay?
I made a trail of light kisses across your forehead
like spreading mints on your pillow in the morning.
I peeled back the curtains
to let rays of light color your cheekbones
and swept your troubles underneath the wooden sofa legs.
A motel's only guests
are faint silhouettes of those passing through.
How did I believe you could be permanent?
I have cleaned every inch
of this haunted cottage,
but when I dust the mantel of my shoulder blades,
I only find your smudged fingerprints.
I cannot scrub you from my skin.
It flakes,
it scars,
but you are still embedded there.
How did I mistake touching for feeling?
A closed sign now dangles around my neck
This vacancy can never be filled.
Aug 28, 2013
Aug 28, 2013 at 5:22 PM UTC
My brittle skeleton has become an abandoned motel
and you
were its last visitor.
Why didn't you enjoy your stay?
I made a trail of light kisses across your forehead
like spreading mints on your pillow in the morning.
I peeled back the curtains
to let rays of light color your cheekbones
and swept your troubles underneath the wooden sofa legs.
A motel's only guests
are faint silhouettes of those passing through.
How did I believe you could be permanent?
I have cleaned every inch
of this haunted cottage,
but when I dust the mantel of my shoulder blades,
I only find your smudged fingerprints.
I cannot scrub you from my skin.
It flakes,
it scars,
but you are still embedded there.
How did I mistake touching for feeling?
A closed sign now dangles around my neck
This vacancy can never be filled.
Poem 1 of my Poetry workshop class. The prompt was to write a poem with the audience of "you", the speaker is "I", and it must pose at least one question.
Request permission to use this poem