Palm drawn scars exist
in vivid vermillion elastic,
candle wax dances blisters
into mittened fingertips
trying to shatter nerves.
Her eyelids blink purple veined
patterns etched into snowflake eyelashes
and scotch tape stitches. Face down
in ice banks , freckles freeze like
nitrogen stars, and her blood vessels start numbing.
Murky pond freezers surround broken glass
edges and openings into hibernating water,
slush crusted feather boots slip and slide
towards mid spring drownings on lightening
days- lean muscles flex against biting cold.
Crying melts with the frozen water
liquefying on her cheeks- she wonders
what it is about numbing that's so addicting
but as her eyes close reddish hues and dark water
she decides, its so she can forget fear transformed paralysis.
when all she could do was freeze , a solitary root at the edge.
Mauve lungs and coated blood vessels are shattered
as frostbite infects her skin, through closed eyes
she can see a mittened ghost watching her lips cry,
Listerine eyelashes breathe hope as a drowned gossamer shape
beckons for her to fight to survive, this time the little sister
getting Ella to save herself.
Whispers leak from Ella's gum- protests and muted mercury words,
'if I couldn't even save you Lily, how can I save me?
Author notes
71/150
Vermillion
In sixth grade on a the beginning of year camping trip, we have two every year, and beginning all of upper school goes 5th -8th, and someone had like zit cream or something but we were in a tent with no mirror... I yelled loudly, " Can somebody help me with my face?" and they still don't let me forget it and we are all in 9th now, most of the year book quotes were mine....
A contest entry
- & I need you to see how slowly I begin to die again by Re-invention.
550 points, ended May 31, 2009, 14 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Anything And Everything! by My Last Breath.x.
1120 points, ended June 4, 2009, 65 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 6 of 6
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i believe in the final stanza instead of "me"it should be "myself"
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this poem intrigues me well enough to wonder what triggered you to write this, I am vastly sure it wasn't the prompt this prompt just helped you get in some superb methaphors... anyways well done & i hope to see you more often in my contest
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your prompt is: word: vermilion
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12
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um what?
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number, please?
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19
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