prism [ kim s.j ] ( fin )

† 52

malignant

a seed, knowingly, will grow with care -

so did my notice of your stare.

lips curve up, i tape mine to place.

hands a fine rose, mine held the thorns.

your sigh, a breath. my voice, a cough.

knowledge was nought,

assurance i bought.

though it caged my bird

from flying, i hope you

see it soar. it was night.

your scrutiny became a peer, a notice,

and with feathered lines, the sky wrote us.

i can see your windows, enthral russet.

you'll see rufescent tints through mine. a clear

white on yours, mine tinted red from a silent cry.

sequins twinkled, a canvas of

nothing - tonight. a buzz came from

something. it blinded me, highlighted

stained cheeks. "hey, are you okay?"

"no, malignant." delete. "yes. why?"

why do you see me, a face of clear plastic?

i only glare light to your eyes, blinking frantic.

nails click-clack on screen, your instant replies.

i use autocorrect. "yes." "okay." i set up a shortcut,

'ILY'. it sends you a message, "thank you."

your light grins never seem to age,

you flash her, a face crusty with maquillage.

i wish to cake myself too, so you

can see that i'm normal like the rest.

you can tell, though, judging by my wheezes.

i thank you that you stopped,

and ignored my hair newly chopped.

drugs voyage around me, i think no

one noticed. it's futile anyway, the remedy

to normalcy - four percent.

four. if you met me at that time, it

would've been messy - memories a lime.

crying, chest hurting, weird foods - my

life was a muck. reminiscence in the

attic, i'm sorry if you're in the dust.

i wish for a constellation, but i'm a black hole,

so stroll around the stars, my world is dark coal.

tie orion around you, be merry with the twins.

be a gentleman to the seven sisters, be wary of

cancer. funny, that's me. i have that. still do.

i'm happy you never visit,

our friendship was always illicit.

my seed withered a long time

ago, so i hope you replant yours.

give that flower to someone else.

the one who reaps held my hand,

i saw roses placed in this wasteland.

i heard it was from you, but i'm sorry.

the one who reaps is tugging me to

his field. i followed.

    

    

    

a lame poetry assignment by me .3.