a flicker, a spark— strike the match against the box, harder, again,
stoke the flames into a raging fire, burning, consuming everything it touches—
cool, rushing stream— scrub harder against the stains, the scratches and marks (angry and bright and flaring with a heated pain: fire, burning hot and red, like a freshly erupted volcano, molten rock spewing from a broken mountaintop—)
wash away the marks, the blood and the grime, the itching feeling that has settled underneath the skin; cold water soothing the burn; hot water cleansing, purifying, removing the evidence of a broken soul—
a whisper (a gasp, a startled breath), quiet in an otherwise silent room,
echoes
reverberates and penetrates and rattles the aching bones residing in a hollow body,
a gentle touch,
a soft look,
a murmured question;
okay?
[im not sure what to say
i look up, empty, numb,
emotion floods your gaze, and i become overwhelmed—
not because i feel
but because i dont]
YOU ARE READING
Anthology of Me and other various poems
Poesiathe first 6 chapters are the original project I did my junior year of high school, the rest are other poems I wrote at varying times from then 'til now.
