Her

someone I know

 

You grew up in a clean home,

empty smiles

in frames, hanging on pristine walls. 

The corners of your bed

always neatly tucked in,

vacuum lines on the carpet

that carried so much weight underneath

while the closets shook with bone rattling truth,

you buried it within.

You were too lovely for your own good, turning heads,

passing time frivolously between vague attention spans,

 counting ice-cubes for sand in glasses that never

seemed to reach their emptiness.

You found comfort in solitude among friends,

 you nursed, enabled

the way you’d always known passing no judgment,

stones to stones, nothing would ever be cast against you

You waited for peace through chaos and emergency.

You cried, wept and slept on the floor begging for mercy;

thinking it had come – you ran with velocity

false in every pretense.

You came to an end and didn’t know which way

to turn, you stood still and every word, consonant – defined action

seemed to defeat itself

floundering

on ground in front of everyone to see….

Author's Note

let me know what you think, improvements, thoughts, etc. always welcome...

Reviews

[Collodi]

Very nicely done. The only suggestion I have is if "word, consonant" should read "verb and consonant" since the line that follows is "action". I think it gives it a strong sense of identity than "word". Nevertheless, I like this narrative form which tells a story of identity. Cheers.

[Ed Hart]

someday you will look back on this poem and thank yourself for writing it to you, because if you didn't get to here, you couldn't get to where you'll be standing then...and when you do, remember ed said this...