I am a paneled van with an empty violin case in the passenger seat.
Unnamed letter tiles laying in closet wasteland. Ancient city
lights and a cabinet with a warning label. I am another empty
bottle with a scarred surface on your kitchen counter. A bulb burnt
out on a wooden table, the fire that leaked through the window.
Do not romanticize this life; I am not your castle girl.
I am not well kept by owners or kindly embraced. Do not confuse
cracked palms and purpled skin with being loved. Do not look for the
marks from those who were not gentle with me. You will find them
if you want to, but you cannot heal them.
Do not tell me that I am good, do not apologize to your God
for my mistakes. Try and save me and you will just arrive to an
empty tower flooded. I am misused and under-worn but I am not
hidden and I am not yours to hide.
You spoke in syrup and milk, saying that I was created to be rescued by
someone who understood. Three days into love and you've forgotten
how to tie your shoes, hoping that rosaries and infatuation would woe
me into coming home. Do not tempt me with your heroics,
I am not your castle girl.
YOU ARE READING
Breakable Contents
Teen FictionCollection of poetry and short narratives I've written so far, some of it is simply class assignments while others are older, published works. All of them were written of experiences personally affecting me; nothing artificial! Thanks for reading- y...
