islands of her
came at me
in a rampage.
the smile
flimsy as it
shook my hand
and ran off with
my shriveled
mind.
only when
I’m boozed up
does she
craft these things;
little fruits,
a makeshift
nutcracker,
and all the
black nuts that
died too early.
some things are
unreasonable-
the snicker
she comes out
as from my mouth
when my eyes
grow wide.
then I choke
and snort in
a fit of
un-breathing-ness
like smashing
my face in
a pillow.
only it’s her
I’m smashing
into a winter
bridge with
ice and metal and
rich-people-cars
and the stars
looked the same
from upside
down.
even then I
couldn’t reach
them
since you
were the good
child and I,
the midget.
Author notes
just another poem about guilt. I can't seem to get away from it.
zillion
A contest entry
- Your Story by FindingFaith.
450 points, ended October 21, 2007, 6 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
wowza
that was really sad. a lot of the imagery was over my head, but it flowed really nicely and... i don't know i just liked it. it made me think of when i was at panera bread with one of my mom's friends after my grandpa died. my whole family was in india an i was stuck in the US because i couldn't miss school. just that awkward guilty feeling in the middle of winter while eating a pecan pastry.
-
Guilt is a nasty thing we all deal with. Thanks for your entry.
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