Tagged: poem

The Midnight Reenactment of Middle School Love

The Daily Routine

She sits in a movie theatre and watches the main character die
from the last row 
from the left most seat
a tragic death that seems to shake the entire audience
except her. The movie ends and she descends the steps
   one by one
      impassive
         stoic
            her face is dry.

She comes back and sits in her bed
She sits in the silence and watches another movie
whose screen exists between pages of a book
a spine whose binding is flimsy.

sniffle sniffle

She starts to cry
for people she's never met
whose faces she has never seen
whose parents she has never met
whose hands she has never held

That's compassion for humanity.

Her hands are bloody
the skin are her nails is destroyed
from stress and agitation.

He holds them firmly and says
I love you despite your flawed hands.
hesitates, backtracks, and recants his words
I love you for your flawless hands
and your capricious emotions
and the way you deal with your feels
that your hands display the message
receive the clemency.

She goes back to the kitchen
tea or coffee?
glass or mug?
pinky or no?

Suddenly, she remembers the war
Anguish and fury rush back to sting her
Her hands are warm and she watches the color slowly disperse.
Placidity counters the fury.
Sympathy balances the anguish.
Her hands are warm, but her heart is worn.
Her mind is lethargic

She lets it all go
imagines it floating away 
                                      this way
      that way
                                                           out of sight, out of mind
All of her efforts are spent
wasted on impotence and structural barriers
She wants to care, but she just can't afford to anymore.

- inspired but not really much more aligned with the Daily Prompt

The Evolution of a Girl

Here she comes in her stroller,

dressed in white and no recognition of the corruption that surrounds her

Her parents cross their fingers and hope that she is destined for good things.

 

Here she comes on her bike,

dressed in pedal pusher jeans that everyone else seems to be wearing these days

No acknowledgement of the hardships that come with the joys in life

Her friends roll their eyes and then go out and buy an identical pair.

 

Here she comes in the passenger seat,

living her life through someone else

When they succeed, she is happy.

When they fail, all seems wrong.

But she picks up and finds someone else to follow.

 

Here she comes on crutches that dig in,

having found someone that pushed her off her chair.

The scars – they will never fade entirely

a friendly reminder of the past

of the reality of life

of the hardships that come with the joy.

 

There she goes in her limo,

she’s out the door,

quickly, quickly,

into the sun.

She’ll never find another permanent shadow in which to find comfort

Her parents cross their fingers and hope that she is destined for greatness.

 

a part of the Weekly Writing Challenge