Oh how I'd like to forget you. You are toxic waste in my brain. You seep through crevices and corrode my memories and the way I see things. You eat at the edges, you disform and twist thoughts. You ruin oridinary things with your corrosion and I wonder if those things in my mind will ever be repaired.
You are the monster under my bed. You are what haunted me throughout my childhood and even through my adolescence I can feel you lurking in the shadows.
I am a piece of smooth cherry wood, and you are etched into me. I am a tree and you are the initials of two lovers- two people who no longer love each other. You are carved deep into me, deep into the rings inside of me, the years I've spent here.
You are the house fire that burned my home. My peace of mind. In my memories I can see where your flames licked the edges like burned photographs. Where there are holes, and spots that run together now.
I see you in the letters of my sloppy handwriting. I see you in the curves of the A's and the tilts of my T's. I see you in the edges of my nails and no file can file you down. The nail may ware away but you do not. I can hear you in my voice when I sing. I can hear you in my voice when I say silly things to my best friend.
I can hear you in my voice when I thought I was alone.
I can see you in all the little innocent things I do. I catch myself in the middle of these things and try to brush it off, like leaves on our front porch in the winter, dead and brown and brittle. But you always seem to come back before long. I can catch a glimpse of you in the mirror when I comb my hair or brush my teeth. You startle me because I was secure in the knowledge that I looked like my father, I had never been told different. Until I started to see you peeking out from behind the corners.
I tried to kill you but your ghost keeps on haunting me.
And this isn't poltergeist but I'm frightened
I'm frightened that someway somehow I could turn out like you
Like my genetic code, my DNA, will set me up for failure
Like I came from shit and all I ever will be is shit
I am 17 and I can see you in the red tints of my hair. There are small freckles in my face that I believe only I have noticed. I tell myself that they must come from you.
This information does not eat at me like it used to. And while I'm still not okay with you. Maybe I don't hate you.
Not for you.
Never for you.
But for me, and my peace.
YOU ARE READING
Fate, Boys, and Other Lies I've Believed
Poesíahere's a collection of what are hopefully my least shitty writings and maybe you will like a few If you could smell what I write, I would hope that you would smell the ocean air and the sweet smell of honeysuckle in the summer evening air. If you...
