The first time you made love the bed looked like a crime scene that
no one wanted to investigate, even the boy whose heart you broke.
Elizabeth, two days later you chopped all your hair off with a
kitchen knife and buried it in the backyard beneath the willow tree. Even now
when the wind blows through its leaves, you can still feel the strands
whispering like ghosts around your face.
There is salt in your voice and sugar in your tears, inviting
men into your bed until it rocks like a boat and everything you touch becomes a
shipwreck.
Dear Elizabeth, one day you will stop learning how to crack
eggshells for the sole purpose of tiptoeing over them. One day your hair will
grow back and all the envelopes you lost to the sea will be returned to you
with extra postage included.
There will be a time when your shadow will finally want to
follow you instead of turning its back on you when you need it most. Elizabeth,
one day when your room fills with water in a dream you will remember all the
people who taught you how to swim.
One day Elizabeth, that black-legged white desk shall be the nearest to home you have ever felt and that guy you said "Hi" to every day but never saw, will be
the only good memory you have. One day
One day, Elizabeth, I know that you are disgusted,
ReplyDeletecause you are feeling so abused.
You get tired of the lust,
but it's so hard to refuse,
so the regret leaves the room,
and it's back to One day..
so there is a speck of artistry in you after all?
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