September 12, 2008


Filed under: Poetry — Tags: , , , , , — denise @ 3:08 pm

I cried 3 times on Wednesday

isn’t how it usually goes

makes it no less true

Once for me

Once for her

Once for me again

Recounting a story about

17 year old me

Pathetic me. Predicably me.

Funny how 20 years can pass

and still that fucking jab in your belly

is still as vicious and stabbing. Funny how easily I remember

every word

that I would eat whole… or bury in concrete

if I could.

Another story,

probably too personal to share

but share I did, because I have to let it out sometimes

a story about a butterfly

and a little purple blanket and a little flower

a baffled friend

who didn’t know how to stop me from sobbing

in the middle of the cafeteria at work

I always think that I won’t cry when I tell that story

and I always do. I always will.

And again, for me

because, why not?

It’s almost midnight and my thoughts are raw

and my skin vibrates and pulls

a day full of stories

and a night thick with fear

that I’m kidding myself


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