You walked in with your arm
still in that milk chocolate sling
and the stitches ripped out of your thumb
like the bindings of the calender
have been ripped out now.
And he asked you the question that was
throbbing in my mind but that I was
too nervous to ask.
So you answered in the affirmative like the
cool, purple aches and pains of rain
which sprawled across the roads outside.
I could feel my bare lips stretching
into a smile and you half-smiled back,
doing what I always do and only
smiling because you saw one opposite you.
I'm so feigned.
But that didn't matter for the moment
because the greasy beads of happiness
were forming on the insides of my eyelids.
Yet maybe because I let his ash-tray
words sink into my milk skin (I promised I
never would let that happen but I shatter
promises like your glass jar), your
news didn't click into place inside my heart
and rectify my insides like I hoped it would.
I pick apart my skin because I let it rip me
up inside and blew it to a massive
size with all my tears.
It never needed to take up such a slab of my mind.
Still, the rain showed the wrinkles on the
road while I was waiting for the bus
and making small-talk with a flesh-and-bone barbie,
and I realised I could coat my nails in the
glittering water and cry and crawl under the Eiffel Tower.
written: Tuesday 17th August 2004, 8:19pm.
Gender:
Points: 890
Reviews: 321