odonoghueashley
My icy blue veins
create a track
for almost-lovers'
finger tips to
ski down slowly.
Slipping, slipping.
Sometimes,
they find my fingertips
or my belt loops
or my zipper.
Crisp fall leaves
drowned in vodka
and cigarette smoke
covering my body -
a cocoon -
preparing for some kind of
metamorphosis.
There's a law about concealed weaponry -
guns and knives and whatever.
But people hid other weapons, too -
people lie, people don't show their real feelings,
people manipulate each other to get what they want.
And it hurts just the same.
Fireworks - they scare me.
The Fourth of July -
I always cried when I was a kid.
And sometimes I still want to.
When the fireworks pop
and scream and fizz
and sparkle
and are beautiful -
I can't take it.
The noise, the lights -
they hurt.
It's so funny - so, so funny.
I always came home as a child with thorns in my hair
and stuck to my clothing
and in the palm of my finger,
stinging with every single heart beat.
All the beautiful things have thorns -
I'm just especially good at finding them.
My dad keeps this big trunk of treasures in the attic.
I have no idea what's in it, but I always loved to imagine -
pictures of long-lost loves;
pictures of grandma when she was just a young girl;
boxes of plane tickets;
receipts from perfect dates with Mom,
and dates-gone-wrong with other women.
Someday, I'll open that trunk
and hopefully be surprised.
They said "don't burn any bridges" -
but really, I just want to burn
your fingerprints off my body,
your sticky, vodka-scented breath
off of my neck
and your face out of my dreams.
Is that too much to ask?
His fingernails pressed into my back -
like miniature cacti in the desert -
that's where they belongs, right?
He hurts me,
and I love him.
And he hurts me,
and I still love him.
We carved our initials into trees
when we were only nine years old.
But really -
you permanently carved your initials
into my heart that day.
I can still feel them -
sitting and waiting with each beat of my heart -
for the day you come back home.
My grandpa can't hear out of his left ear
because it got blown out in combat,
fighting for our freedom.
So when I wish him "Merry Christmas"
and tell him "I love you and I appreciate you"
he usually doesn't hear it at all.
But, I guess, at least I am free
and can tell him these things,
even if he does not hear them.
I'm not sure if it was worth it.
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writing since 2011 · 11 entries · 11 days shown up
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