Fingernails

New bed sheets
high thread count
new silk nightgown
strapping me in the middle of the bed
between you and bricks
I thought I could write
out of the wall of my brain
with poetry
but the words dropped me
in the cold Atlantic sea
swimming to your island
your metal neglect
weighing down on me
the waves carry your laughter as
I open my mouth for air
water floods my lungs instead
I wake up coughing
out a soccer ball
I dribble it across your field
sprinting to you but I fall
mud in my mouth
dirt under my fingernails
I plant flowers there
hoping they grow into balloons
to float me away from here
between you and cold bricks
in the middle of the bed.

 

 

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About RebeccaFionna

Poetess and Dragon goddess since 1992
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