they pay to kiss your feet

since there's no one else around, we let our hair grow long and forget all we used to know. then our skin gets thicker from living out in the snow.

Thursday, November 01, 2007

this winter.

i chose concrete
and high ceilings
and proximity.

but i didn't choose this.

no, not this.
and this ache that doesn't go away
is not something i signed up for.
i didn't pick it from a shelf
with wide-eyes and a wider smile.
i didn't take it down and care for it;
cushioning it with lace and down and cotton - maybe bubble wrap.

i didn't pack it into a box - carefully
and load it onto a truck
with other things like
the blue couch
and the shabby-chic comforter
and that box full of photos i'm not sure he knows i have.

i didn't put it in a car instead of the u-haul
along with the artwork - pensive girl by irving amen,
originals by amy,
photo by mom - spider web echoing sunrise
i didn't do that.

and this dying inside has to be healing.
but sometimes, it just feels like death.
and i'm not currently a fan
of winter.


Post a Comment

<< Home