Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dec 2010
Maybe someday
When I’m sick of imagining my future
I can accept my present
It’s nothing too hard
Except
I imagine like wild rivers run
Never contained
And the dams put up to stop the flow are washed away
Like leaves down storm drains

Maybe someday
When I’m ready to disappear
I will turn invisible
And turn into the forests on the mountain
Except
I have grown fat with society as my drinking buddy
My feet are soft
My ears are trained to hear cars and telephone-ringing
My soul grew civilized and quiet

Maybe someday
When I’m tired of being perfect
I can let someone dote upon me
Treating me as royalty
Except
I’d rather carve the thrones
And build the tombs
Than sit upon them
Or lay beneath them

I will have to deal with the splinters and broken backs that come with the task
It’s just my way
Of remembering you
It’s just my way
Of drawing people into my skin
Like tattoos of personalities and quirks
I try to make them a part of me
I try to make them impossible
To forget
Because I can’t remember most of my past
So if I have all of you drawn onto me
I might one day be able to read my skin
And remember
The sound of every laugh you’ve had and the way you moved when you were happy
And

Maybe someday
When I’m old and tired
I can read the novels that will be drawn on my skin
And remember your words
As they passed from your lips

Maybe someday
When I’m old and tired
I can reread the things you’ve told me
I can reread through the wrinkles
That held my smiles when you were around

Maybe someday
When I’m old and tired
I can lay down peacefully at night
With memories in my head
And disappear into the forests of people
That drew themselves into my life
Written by
GS White
754
   Jenna Morgan
Please log in to view and add comments on poems