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Pamela Rose May 2013
He says
My sister’s beauty
Doesn’t matter anymore
After the accident.
That I’m the
Pretty one now.
He says
Don’t move.
I like looking at you now.
The next time he chokes
From eating too fast
I won’t move.
Pamela Rose May 2013
Aggressively self-conscious
His excited fingers stumble along the outline of her body,
Bemused in the smoke.
His mind flies as his nerves sing.
Beautiful, behind the smoke;
She’s used to better.
Losing her patience,
Kissing his warm neck with a mouthful of smoke,
A limp wrist and bored finger.
It stings her eyes;
Smoke, suspended and still in the room,
Becoming part of the air.
His smile, awkward and pale;
Sick with her sense of failure.
Dazed by the smoke
She grabs her skirt, tucks in her blouse;
Watching him watch her through the screen of smoke
From his naked mattress.
Her shape is a ghost behind its shield,
He was touching her only moments ago.
She is gone. The door locks.
Sunrise paints his time lost.
In the room, smoke tells of past events.
She is busy living; he won’t call.
This, between him and the smoke, suspended and still in the room,
Smoke that has become part of the air.
Pamela Rose May 2013
what you don’t know
i never stop thinking about you
when you don’t say hi to me
it ruins my day.
the way you say bye
can make me smile
or cry.
if you don’t look at me
i run through everything
i said
to make sure
i didn’t do anything wrong.
i get jealous
without meaning to.
just show me you’re human
because you can do no wrong
in my eyes.
Pamela Rose May 2013
Our words
Sound so
Beautiful
Warming
Symphonic
When we whisper.
Don’t we all sound the same?
Our sounds
Light as air
Mix with each other
Telling secrets
That rise up to the sky
Lost to everyone but us.
Don’t speak
Don’t ruin it
With our voices
Loud and Hard
Sharp, Piercing
When we speak
We have identities
When we whisper
We can lose ourselves
For a while.

— The End —