|i was her
Author: speakeasy-love PM
and she was me. the poetRated: Fiction K+ - English - Poetry/Drama - Words: 269 - Reviews: 1 - Published: 11-30-09 - Status: Complete - id: 2746973
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
An old memory contorts my spine, and holds me close. I'm unable to overcome it as is chimes numbly in my left ear. ringing back for me my past.
back when I didn't, sleep. and I didn't eat, unless forced. only once people started to. notice. and then I am wrapped in memories that twist and contort my spine, and I take on unfamiliar shapes. and I make unfamiliar noises.
I twist my spine along the new carpet. like a dying person I wither pathetically along the floor. impassionated, I begin to rave of madness and love.
rug burns form along my back and knees. the cold becomes less cold, I remove clothing.
whispering "don't you know what the night does to me?" the fire at my heels now eating at my ankles. the ash of day old cigarettes falls onto my thigh. scaring my burns, draining my mind.
I force half a cup of ice cold water down my throat that does nothing but chill my insides. depleting my inner heat, abusing my muse. a gag develops in my throat that I am unable to overcome.
I hunch down. creating a bend in my spine, a permanent fissure at the top that weighs me down. keeps my eyes on the ground, my mouth shut.
this heart is wrecked. open and bleeding with no hope of repair.
night comes and a mad old bard emerges to spit lies and poetry.
"no one will know if you choose madness tonight."
my sleep is stolen, my bravery is torn, and the fusser on my back grows deeper.