not as comforted by the absence of shore as i was before, when i prayed for the shell to close now i stare into the sun waiting for doors to show i cradle all my blemishes, the flower, grip the thorns rabbits are telling me its time to go yet my internality remains reposed comforted by the thought of piercing arrows comforted by the sweet monsters voice haven’t felt in so long, a zoo animals futile joy
close like next to me emotionally touching I love you close like a door slammed on an argument a last word finishing a relationship ending a meeting how funny the English language so much room for misinterpretation so much scope for joy or crashing disappointment
Inchoate truth, No, you are not yet real, How quiet you are inside, As though I'm seeing but not hearing a family through a window. Oh, my very own inchoate truth, It would not do to love you, It is not yet love that will see your arrival into the world out there.
they stuff "yes, no matter what" / "you're always wrong" / "what will people say?" / into a flimsy puppet skin / rigidly moving the strings in one direction / whenever someone comes over / they mount the puppet on the wall / proudly showing off their prized creation. but when their eyes come to a close / the puppet feels scorching strings on its shoulders / it reaches inside / gutted by what it sees / one by one / it examines each phrase / it takes everything out / replaces it with "no" / "I am not always wrong or right" / "what do I say?" / and slowly snips the strings off its shoulders / so it can walk freely.
Escapril Day 14! Prompt: taxidermy (the art of preparing, stuffing, and mounting the skins of animals with a lifelike effect). This is my take on the prompt! Thank you for reading.