"grayi" poems
“… also known as the skeleton flower, has white petals that turn translucent with rain. When dry, they revert to white.” – Wikipedia
They call it the skeleton flower;
its petals change from chalk
to crystal when it rains; melodic droplets
wash away the white, leaving transparent fingerprints.
12:01 p.m.
You showed me my reflection
in a funhouse mirror
and told me I was ugly.
You soaked me with your scorn;
I wilted and hoped you couldn’t see
through my skin.
I think I saw through yours.
My exposed arteries were empty, unfulfilled
because years ago I hid my dreams, only small
brown seeds, in a shoebox under my bed;
discarded to please the unpleasable.
I saw you, drenched and dropping drips;
you tried to sprinkle them off on others.
So, I strung my tears on a necklace
to remind me never to treat anyone
the way you treated yourself. Then I took out
that old shoebox from under the bed;
I could feel my dreams rattling
as I took off the lid
little yellow hearts that I’d ripped from my core
burst from the seeds and I wound
them around my fingers like rings;
I’ve worn them ever since.
2:01 p.m.
I dried. My skin was a succulent white
and I promised, I would never let anyone,
tell me who I was again.
Apr 5, 2020
Apr 5, 2020 at 8:04 PM UTC