In My ClosetA Poem by Michael HowellThere's a little glass bottle gathering dust on a shelf in my closet. The skeletons keep it hidden, mostly, and I'm confident I'm the only one who knows it's there, because I'm the only one who ever looks for it.
It's nothing special at least in my mind. A cylinder filled with opague blue green liquid that only shines when I hit it with my flashlight.
The glass is chipped and fading to grey and ever so slowly losing all the luster that made it so attractive.
Sometimes I can forget it's there completely but it seems I'll always come back to stare at it.
There's a line of grime and a line of time just below the cork that tells of the day it used to be full and every time I see it I remember
Exactly how vile it tasted. I didn't think to sip from it first, no, I gulped half of it down in one swallow
I didn't realize
How addictive it could be
And drop by drop it wrung my heart and shot fire through my veins a fire so intense I had to scream and shout and write until my throat and hands were bloody and raw and blue.
I still have some scars some things run too deep for time to erase completely So every time I accidentally trace a scar on my hands or on my mouth, I remember the little glass bottle gathering dust behind the skeletons in my closet. And every time I accidentally trace a scar on my hands or my mouth
I want to get rid of the blue green liquid that haunts my hands but I know I can't just throw it out I must drink it all to be completely free. But I'm afraid it will burn my hands or mouth if I do.
So for now the grey, unappealing bottle can gather dust The bottle and I we can live with each other we have to live with each other I must live with it because if I really wanted it gone I would lose my pen and my voice in the process and without me that little glass bottle wounldn't have a story to tell and it would burn itself until the grey became black and the blue green would be see through. © 2010 Michael Howell |
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Added on December 28, 2010 Last Updated on December 28, 2010 Author
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