a promenade of feeling

the little blue boat

Quiet
Just, quiet
The type of quiet that makes your ears ring
In an attempt to block out the silence
It's true when they say there's always a calm after the storm
The little blue boat showed proof of that when it made its way to the seafoam covered shore
Not in one peice
No
Never again
It survived the type of storm that ripples under your eyelids until that's all your eyes remember seeing
Until a permanent image of the treacherous waves and thunderous skies is plastered on to the walls of your mind
a fresh layer of red wallpaper to cover up
the old one made of youthful memories and
childlike hues soon forgotten

You start to no longer remember the beauty of colour;

What your smile looked like after-
The waves slammed me against the iceberg
Until my only memory of touch
was claws and scrapes and mouth ajar with pointy teeth
biting at the mast of the little blue boat
but I've got to keep rowing keep rowing keep rowing until
Oh, god
When is enough, enough?

Where the sun nestles upon the-
Blood, blood is covering my eyes
As if someone held my heart atop my head
and let its cherry tears stream down my face and
down the oars of the little blue boat
into the large mass of dark waters and
Oh, god
Why do the waves kind of look like mother?

When you first kissed a-
Iceberg piercing into the fleshy canvas on my back
Persuading the bones to pierce through its marbled coating and create an art piece so beautifully terrifying
The type of art piece the waves embedded into the sides of little blue boat
Art pieces I'll have to carry with me for the rest of my life
As if I'm a walking museum of hurt and repulsion and anger and
Oh, god
how many broken bones will make you realize
you've reached your limit?

Because the little blue boat has reached theirs

It's tired of seeing how the waves reflected the sun to look like liquid honey
thick and gooey and tasty
sugarcoated facades used to the storms advantage
they always knew I had a sweet tooth
Liquid honey so heartbreakingly appealing to anyone with
gummy rimmed cavities in their hearts
rotting and rotting and rotting
like the helm of the little blue boat
as it tries to reach the seashell covered shore
But it never did fall for the waves disguise
for a monster is still a monster
no matter how many syrupy masks
are poured all over it

I know that this storm is wrong
That it is a problem and a casualty and a tragedy
that if bottled up and devoured by the waves cherry filled jaws
it would be sure to get lost at sea
but that's why I've got to keep rowing keep rowing keep rowing
something good has to come out of this
even if that good is hidden beneath scars and scrapes and-
There's blood pooling out of the cracks of the little blue boat
like a map leading me towards the sand
nestled on the plush bed of the shore;

safety
something I thought the waves had
taken from me

The little blue boat didn't realize the affection radiating
off of the embrace of its hull hugging the salty sea foam shore
It might not ever realize affection so raw ever again
and soon enough, It'll stop noticing the small pleasures in life
like how overgrown grass tickled the bottoms of my toes
or how the crickets sounded when they hummed lullabies
outside my bedroom window during witching hours
because their tunes are always going to be
quieter than teeth hitting the floor
and bloody pleads for mercy
and the skies crescendo
and the waves shouting shouting shouting and-

quiet
just, quiet
the storm has finally stopped
the clouds have pulled back
revealing the golden faced sun
as if it could have only ever been seen
from this sandy shore
my cries have stopped
leaving crystalline imprints on my reddened cheeks

temporary

unlike the indents carved into
the nape of my neck
and the hills of my back
as if the devil decided to use my body as a colouring book
(which isn't so different from what this storm
did to the little blue boat)
but once the devil decides to erase the lines he's created, to make room for more
he won't be able to
for these scars are eternal

permanent

daily reminders of the wars fought beyond this shore

this is what you left me with

hands that will tremble at any given sound
a voice that will string countless apologies for merely existing
and a mind that can't tell the difference between a boy and a man
but from the light of the sun
my vision is no longer clouded
and from here I can see the storm nestled upon the horizon
too far to ever hurt me again
and amidst its darkened mass lies
a token of surviving the embodiment of hurt:
the shell of a child
bobbing,
slowly

this is what I left you with

for now

the war is over

-ken m 1/19/20

{Dedication}
Dedicated to all the people going through any form of abuse
or the people who have already gone through it
It's a terrible thing, really
But it's not your fault
None of it is your fault
I'm still trying to understand that myself
But we'll all get there eventually
Please remember
There's always a calm after the storm
You'll be okay

<3