Porcelain

  Crushing my last cigarette,



I think of you for the last time.


The stillness makes my bones ache,


like a weary rocking chair’s angst,


elegant but quiet,


like a perfect porcelain doll.


 


Poisonous memories dance in my veins.


Still traceable from last night,


by scent and whimpers that escape


my lips and endlessly bounce off the walls.


Newscasters blare omens of inevitable doom


in the background because we are Americans.


 


My bra straps stick to my skin


Settling cozily into the residual dirt


I stare at your stony smile


Coldly glaring from the frame


Trying to scrape layers from my skin


Straining to pull tears from these eyes


 


The sky outside the solitary window,


an untouchable panorama,


a plethora of peace


to chase this away.


 


Slipping out the back door,


The old mildewed wood whines.


Moonlight dances on forgotten words 


The wrinkles in my face soften,


My fingers fall from their fists.


The stars beg me to let you go,


I ease over the balcony,


to see if you can hear me shatter.

smallflower smallflower
26-30, F
Mar 2, 2010