no more

we were girls,
in the summer house
hugging pillows
and getting chocolate
around our chapstick mouths.
now
with you behind the wheel.
switching between tapes
of romantic melodies
and the singer
who used to be so edgy.
when the only makeup
the black crayons
we used for our baby eyelids.
i say i remember,
when my daddy had a job
and my mother would crash the pans
in the kitchen
to let us know what we'd done wrong.
i am still her,
the girl who painted a faded orchard
down one half of her dress
and faced the world in profile
so it could see her at her best.
and i commanded
my heart to speed and slow
at the same time.
i am the one
who would try her hardest
just to see if i could make them mine.
ironing curls
in front of the hallway mirror
and cloaking my chest.
with bulky layers.
at night,
trying to say her prayers.
for a god she no longer believed in
but thought
he could fix some kind of sin.
we'd lie there in her bed,
four dark ruffled heads
surrounded by the bright magazine
that promised we'd stay friends.
i couldn't even paint then.
maybe it was me that had to end.

Reviews

[Zeitgeist Manifesto]

This is a great poem. It has some very warm imagery in it.
I felt like I'd known you a long time and I seemed to share
the memories.

I really enjoyed it.