THIS IS EVENT-BASED FICTION.
Stomach churning from the summer heat,
She's slumped on the side of the road,
Blue bra and legs displayed beneath tight shorts.
Breathing hard,
A pile of vomit beneath where she heaves.
Short and brown,
With short and brown hair,
He stands at the end of his driveway,
Holding a glass of water out to her.
She smiles, and drinks,
Gives the glass back and stands.
She jogs from his line of sight
And collapses again.
I can't do this.
*
The Sun is so warm
Against her nearly bare back.
Coach said one more mile.
One more repeat.
Break 9.
Her eyes are on her teammate,
Laughing with the boys,
So natural, so comfortable.
Her legs are pulling,
Just one more.
The distance between her foot
And the ground shifts.
She falls, tearing her meniscus.
I can't do this.
*
The fluorescent lighting
Is cruel and harsh against where she lays,
Cold and sleepy, still sweaty.
The curtain swishes,
And the doctor stands there.
"No more running," she says.
The crutches are too high,
Uncomfortable, unnatural.
Her mother's eyes radiate disappointment.
When she is home, midnight, unable to sleep,
She slides out of bed and tries to stand,
Collapses to the floor with a muffled scream of pain.
I can't do this.
*
Autumn sunlight casts shadows
On trampled leaves.
She's jogging right with them:
The boys, whose legs she envies,
And the girls, their confidence and ease.
He trips and she grabs his hand,
Anchoring him from falling into the street.
His grin lights up her world.
She slips and he grabs her hand,
Keeping her from injury-by-telephone-pole.
Then, later, much later,
Her legs tire,
YOU ARE READING
thoughts from a dark hole
Poesiarandom poetry that i think of. poetry is my way of coping with my mind and learning about the world around me through the beauty of words. thank you for reading! TRIGGER WARNING FOR THE FIRST TWO POEMS - sexual and physical abuse, violence, CSA, de...
