First there was sitting on sun scorched cement and coloring wishes
on the sidewalk,no matter what mom said i was sure fairy tales could
still come true.Fluorescent hopes bloomed like golden dandelions and
the only thing i had to worry about was when he would get home.
And after that we would sit on swing sets,thinking that if we were two
push off just right,that we would shoot off into sugar free stars and
leave behind paper thin hugs from parents who saw through Plexiglas and
collected broken hearts.
Now all we do is lay out on football fields,Silent and waiting,We never
reached the stars and if i even suggest it,you look at me in that way i
cant forget.Chugging soda pop and alcohol and at least your pushing off
on something else.
Holding my breath and trying not to look at myself,repetitive insecurities
are thrown up and im sprawled on the bathroom floor,trying to make sence
of how this all happened.rotted flowers are squished between street corners
and make out sessions and I couldent bring myself to care [less] about
any of it.
Growing up hurts more than ever,and I know that I cant fly away
because I never even had those wings those angels did.
Author notes
well,this is what i came up with.
"Bags of Oranges Don't Leave Bruises"
A contest entry
- Your Words Were Bullets And I Was Target Practice by x-Pretty-Odd-x.
450 points, ended August 11, 42 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
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wonderful emotional content. favorite part, hands down
"Growing up hurts more than ever,and I know that I cant fly away
because I never even had those wings those angels did."
Simply...wow
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well expressed.
Best wishes and good luck,
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Very powerful write, simply fantastic =] It's very well written and your imagery is amazing. Great job. Thank you for the entry.
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BRAVO! BRAVO!
your writing voice is really coming through boldly!
and man...could we all relate to this defining stage.
I still have a sad part of my heart for another whom
it hurt my heart to walk away...but when I saw the
his endless stream of soul-less girlfriends...damn..
i learned to listen to that innervoice that was
screaming at me inside..to simply get up and walk away.
ears/Seattle
see...you really pulled on our heart strings!
way to write!
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you are freakin' amazing with imagery.
i'm jealous.
i hate growing up too.
eighteen is a curse.
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