For What it's Worth

She offered me a smoke on our way back home 
While she rambled on about how freedom tastes like tang and
Childhood of dried blood and gravel
That when you reach your prime age 
Your ceiling shouldn't be as filthy as your bed sheets
And that christening gown-
The one that’s stained with strawberry orange jam
From when you were a baby
Should be tossed out along with the overflowing trash

That old perfume bottles should be filled with
Brandy and
Kept hidden on the floor of your closet
Because although authentic and beautiful
Your mother’s eyes will fill with tears if she finds them and
Your father’s voice will shake with the same rage that
Boils in the pit of your swollen stomach

And when you’re young
Carnations and
Roses
Should not be on the dining table but
Cherries and clementines
Because high expectations don’t taste as sweet as forgiving yourself
 
On our way back home
She passed me the cigarette carton
Inside was filled with pressed pansies and she told me that
Even the most innocent, precious flowers
Will eventually wither and decay
 
On our way back home
Our naked fingers clutched onto a bottle of whiskey
Torn photos of the seaside and
Scratched records
 
She promised me that death is not only filled with 
Cockroaches and maggots but
Satin sheets and lace curtains with
The smell of burnt dragon’s blood and sage
 
She promised me that when we close our eyes together
All will be calm
And when our eyes open in the late winter weather
We’ll finally find our June. 

Author's Note

I wrote this within a half an hour, and I included elements of everything that has been on my mind lately..about growing up, and throwing away all the things that pain you and problems concerning body image..all of the parasites that make up life.

Reviews

[TL Boehm]

holy freakin cow this is good. And when you’re young
Carnations and
Roses
Should not be on the dining table but
Cherries and clementines
Because high expectations don’t taste as sweet as forgiving yourself
that - that is stellar and this
Even the most innocent, precious flowers
Will eventually wither and decay
wow. this poem is simply stunning
IF I could write like this - I wouldn't be shlepping through a day job as an accountant

[Lyn Anderson]

An interesting mix of thoughts and feelings, with some clever word usage. I have read several of your poems, and found them an eclectic mix.

[John Alexander McFadyen]

For one so young you write with the emotion of one who has lived and watched and seen. This is written so very well and captures the imagination with the sentiment.