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abby-humphreysPoems
1. a Picasso night, laden with dust that settles on my skin like snow. I'm sitting in the center of the room with gooseflesh skin and broken bones still shifting, prodding my little flame with singed fingertips and all I can see is my childlike reflection staring hungrily back at me, thirsting for an inkling of something more. 2. the room is awash with yellow light from the oncoming dawn. I claw at the floor with scorched nails, digging my way out. through the genesis, my little flame swells with hope as my reflection shifts into someone I begin to recognize. 3. high noon. the roof is gone. the sun beats upon me like a drum and i take the blows with my head bowed in paralyzing shame. something is perpetually falling from my eyes, but i've already refused to cry. the flame is shrunken and deteriorated to a dull pinprick of luminance. i no longer wish to escape this room; i only long to understand the face in the wall that i know is me. i smash the mirrors. 4. this sunset is all I could have ever dreamed of. I am an hourglass tunrned inside-out and upside-down, my flame flickering and beginning to grow again. I reach out, grab the hands that have been outstretched towards me for what seems like an eternity. They will take me home. Look at the colors, they say. I know. I know. 5. a Picasso night laden with dust that settles on my skin like snow. I sprout wings and fly away, stars exploding in my wake.
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Apr 11, 2010
Apr 11, 2010 at 8:09 PM UTC
La Lucha
1. a Picasso night, laden with dust that settles on my skin like snow. I'm sitting in the center of the room with gooseflesh skin and broken bones still shifting, prodding my little flame with singed fingertips and all I can see is my childlike reflection staring hungrily back at me, thirsting for an inkling of something more. 2. the room is awash with yellow light from the oncoming dawn. I claw at the floor with scorched nails, digging my way out. through the genesis, my little flame swells with hope as my reflection shifts into someone I begin to recognize. 3. high noon. the roof is gone. the sun beats upon me like a drum and i take the blows with my head bowed in paralyzing shame. something is perpetually falling from my eyes, but i've already refused to cry. the flame is shrunken and deteriorated to a dull pinprick of luminance. i no longer wish to escape this room; i only long to understand the face in the wall that i know is me. i smash the mirrors. 4. this sunset is all I could have ever dreamed of. I am an hourglass tunrned inside-out and upside-down, my flame flickering and beginning to grow again. I reach out, grab the hands that have been outstretched towards me for what seems like an eternity. They will take me home. Look at the colors, they say. I know. I know. 5. a Picasso night laden with dust that settles on my skin like snow. I sprout wings and fly away, stars exploding in my wake.
Written by
abby-humphreys
American
Apr 11, 2010
Apr 11, 2010 at 8:09 PM UTC
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