the curtain has been open for years
isolation from myself
an audience, waiting for me to dance
"Dance, baby, dance!"
they love to watch me
squirm
programs scattered on the sidewalk
"Dance, you fool, dance!"
heavy footprints on my heart
saliva of my lovers
coated with dirt and loathing
"Beautiful girl, why have you stopped dancing?"
I see myself exit stage left
and I clap
I'm the only one still clapping for her
Go home, everybody
Go home
August Periwinkle
Thursday, May 1, 2014
Tuesday, April 29, 2014
A formal thank you
The security is almost… unnerving.
Something so wonderful, so unexplainably foreign, that I’m
reaching out to touch it - but it doesn’t go anywhere. It’s just as soft
as it looks. No, no, no; softer. It’s touching my face, it’s following
me, it’s hidden in my innermost thoughts. I’m satisfied, I’m uplifted,
I’m radiating everything I’ve ever begged to feel.
"Every cell in our
entire body is replaced every seven years. One day, I will have a body that you
have never touched."
A newborn, a blank sheet
of paper, a young woman. A beautiful, talented young woman, looking for
recognition. That’s all she ever wanted: to be recognized, and appreciated.
Colors are vivid, sunshine
is bright, and kisses are sweet. You’ll never know how much you hurt me - but
in the end, I want to thank you. You may have a slight idea of how much damage
you did; but you’ll never have any clue about how much you really helped
me.
You made me realize my own
worth. You made me realize everything I’ve ever hated in a person - everything
I never want to see in another human being. And most importantly, you
helped me learn what exactly love is - and certainly what it is not.
The mornings
My left eye explores,
my right eye
She slumbers
A big, burly bear
The mornings
Tick, tick, tick
I tip-toe
Around your feelings
The mornings
Trash from last night
My yellow roses,
staring back at me
Rolling over
The mornings
Wishing every minute
Of every day
Could be
The mornings
Valentine's Day 2014
The wine crept through my
veins. I sat at the kitchen table, glass-in-hand, watching him. Bruno Mars
serenaded us. I wiggled my toes, wondering about our future.
"Like this?" He
asked, smiling at me. He pointed to my egg.
"Yes," I said,
admiring him. His smile radiated an essence that I had only experienced a
handful of times. A consciousness easily comparable to the few most
important sensations in my life; the light in my niece’s eyes when she
recognizes my voice, or the smell of Katie’s Velvet Sugar perfume.
He finished cooking the
bacon, cursed a bit, and turned the oven off. I squirmed in my seat,
writhing with contentment. A perfect man, cooking the perfect meal. I
felt like a princess. With him, I always felt like a princess.
As he drowned his eggs in
hot sauce, interestingly enough, I imagined spending the rest of my life with
him. The scenarios that ran through my mind didn’t scare me - they were
comforting.
I saw a princess, becoming
a queen. Thick, brown hair, turning grey. Hospital bills, late nights,
dancing in the kitchen, an Aussie, two kids, and a different bouquet of flowers
each year.
I saw everything I’ve ever
wanted.
Running
My entire life, I’ve been
running.
Running away from everything
that terrifies me. I’ve avoided so many internal conflicts, it’s torn me to
pieces.
I imagine myself in the
same situation, every time:
I’m running. It’s hot. So
fucking hot.
I can feel the beads of sweat crawling down my temples,
under my arms, between my blistering toes. I’m running, still running, as fast
as I possibly can. My chest feels tight, I can barely breathe, but I don’t stop
- I can’t stop.
The landscape around me is
completely barren. The only thing I can see is the golden-brown haze, miles and
miles of it. Cliffs all around me, jagged rocks, mirages so tempting, I’m
thirsty. I want to stop, I want to breathe, but I can’t end up like the others.
I won’t step off of the beaten path before me. I refuse.
I am all alone.
The wind blows against my
skin, but it does not relieve me as wind should - the warm breeze throws hot
sand into my eyes, and my face stings with regret. I should’ve stopped,
I think, I should’ve stopped.
I look behind me, still
moving forward, and suddenly, it stops. My feet are no longer treading dirt and
sand. I’m falling, I realize. Oh shit, I’m falling.
My vision is filled with
blue, all blue. Nothing but this big, beautiful, sublimity of the most genuine
blue I’ve ever encountered. I lose my stomach. My arms feel weightless against
the open air. I can’t breathe at all, but I don’t notice, nor do I need to. The
resisting breeze hits my sweat like ice, and I’m freezing. I’m so cold, and it
feels so nice.
I’m out of the desert. I
can’t make out anything below me. I don’t see the ground. I don’t see trees, I
don’t see birds, I don’t see any signs of life.
I’m okay with it.
I close my eyes and let
the wind whirl my hair around my motionless body, thinking, I don’t know. I
don’t know anything, anymore.
When I finally hit the
water, it doesn’t sting. It submerges me.
I never knew, I realize. I never
knew.
You make me feel
the way I’ve been aching
to feel for years
my idea of her was a distant theory
and only that; a theory
carefree, with a dash of sass
an ounce of innocence
in a pool of wisdom
the smile in her father
dancing across a sea of enemies
hope, faith in others
more importantly, myself
I’m finally lifting my chin
opening my eyes
looking forward
I can see the skylight
the snow stings the tops of my feet
you’re finally next to me
grabbing my hand
and I can feel everything
and only that; a theory
carefree, with a dash of sass
an ounce of innocence
in a pool of wisdom
the smile in her father
dancing across a sea of enemies
hope, faith in others
more importantly, myself
I’m finally lifting my chin
opening my eyes
looking forward
I can see the skylight
the snow stings the tops of my feet
you’re finally next to me
grabbing my hand
and I can feel everything
I can finally feel again
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