Smoke Signals

I'm childish when I cry; my pretty face all scrunched up

and ruddy, snot cresting just on my lip. Don't lie.

The mirror protests how I look so grotesque.

Childish in knowing that sobbing solves nothing.

Wounds are not healed and fragments are not mended.

Yet there is no relief comparable to heated blotchy cheeks,

puffed eye sockets, small tufts of tissue paper stuck to my lashes;

they look like feathers, to you.

My tears come to me as a violent torrent of words,

                                                                      phrases,

                                                                                 and sounds

that tend to build up in my temporal lobe.

Its all stockpiled

but between the miles I'm chasing them around, slipping in my grip, constantly

desperately wrenching them out. I should've remembered

to squeeze from the bottom of the tube.

In our little tribe objects are too tangible.

Its too easy for me in your embrace, for that I apologize.

Not for my saline and not for the hideousness,

but to feel your touch brings me to tears too often.

I'll let you be the strong one, collapsible, you call me Doll

when you scoop me up and off to bed and I'm still rubbing

my nose into your wet neck, because for far too many weeks

                                                                                    on

                                                                                       end

I'm stronger than any woman of my kind knew she could be.

In your hands I find myself allowing frailty and fault

and welcoming them back, as I would

a distant relative.

Reviews

[Leap]

The mirror protests how I look so grotesque.
Childish in knowing that sobbing solves nothing.

The sound of these two specific lines themselves caught my breath. Elegant intimate moments flashed like bits of film. Our mind bullets just crashed with the whole 'genius thing.' I hope you know you are never, never hideous to me. I like you.

[smalltownsympathies]

Absolutely fantastic. You are the queen of poetry, and I am in awe of you and your work. You spin a intricate tales, and never cease to amaze.
:)

[Alicia Schroeder]

Very touching, lovely write.

[Kelley]

I love the description is this one. It shows the pain.
Could of been about a ghost or even a long lost love.
It does not matter. We grow with the heartaches I think.

Great poem. Thanks for sharing.

Kelley

[.]

wow--this is wonderful!!!
"I'm stronger than any woman of my kind knew she could be.
In your hands I find myself allowing frailty and fault
and welcoming them back, as I would
a distant relative."
...really a superb piece of poetry...
...I Love It!!!
J:)

[Kitten]

You have fantastic writing skills. It really spoke to my heart. It also reminded me of younger days. [laughs] Not that I'm old or anything.

[Aynsley]

Heeeey this is fantastic! i love ur use of words :D

[R E Tree]

This poem impressed me you have a creative way of using words. I read the title of the poem but I just don't know how smoke signals can be anything to do with feeling heartbroken and gaining strength. I guess I would have to think about that more deeply.