“Straight Lines” (10.22.12)
i am broken
leather mobile seat
with seams that
extend far beyond me
on carefully laid,
and between to-do items
that never seem to cease
arrows point the way
(but not for me,
for tourists or
girls just turned sixteen)
and i stay between the lines
in hundreds of thousands of miles
i do my time
going forward, and
You say so eloquently, smiling,
Between passionate bites of vanilla ice cream with chocolate sauce,
Three black and white spots staining your blouse.
And it bothers me,
Seeing those imperfections beneath my luscious lashes,
Making it so blatantly obvious that the glamour you once held at such a high Standard
Is now all but gone.
The fake diamond bracelet grips your bruised and bony wrists so sadly.
The false sparkle almost mocks the stark surroundings around you.
A delicate silver necklace and a pink bow in your hair,
Like a doll after a few hours of dress up,
Limp and powerless, propped up in your chair.
And though I used to hate your comments on the disapproval of my hair
Or unpolished nails,
I wish to be glamorous for you–
For you to be glamorous for me.
But the fake diamond bracelet doesn’t do that even superficially.
Your weathered leather hands shake in mine,
As if there is still so much energy and life to live all bottled up inside of you just Waiting to burst out of your skin.
You’d lift my characterless hands to your mouth,
Kissing them unabashedly with vanilla chocolate lips,
Sucking my skin as if to suck the vibrancy I’m still so blessed with out of me.
And I look at you, selfishly,
Wondering if some part of you is in fact happy.
I don’t want to judge you for your suddenly unglamorous life,
Nor do I want to hold you to this earth when you no longer want to be held.
Perhaps your hands were shaking, shaking to be let go,
and when you looked into my eyes I should’ve known.