feel my forehead

i used to know a girl,

she wears eight inches of blusher on her cheeks.

or at least

enough to turn them bright pink.

but i like them pale.

i spent last night on a friendly shoulder

(oh, i never mean to hurt you

but i do)

as my brain adopted the flu.

dear father drove through the beating rain,

to collect me from the world of

'expressive', they called it

and i realise now as i was painting

it was the fever gripping my paintbrush,

before it claimed me.

the scribbles of, please don't forget me

remember me.

please remember me.

carrying forget-me-nots across the acrylic blue sea.

mother, feel my forehead.

and tell me it's okay to sleep.

it's okay to be a friend.

and i don't want the weekend, where everything

will change

again.

Reviews

[Jessica Elaine Stevens ..]

Love love love love love love love love love love