changing again

i decide that i like the feeling of the wind against my
damp skin, the way it dances across my hair,
my face a monochrome mess as summer
seeps out of my body.

the constellations clinging to my thighs fade,
the memory of touch distant as i start
screaming, words and blood and skittles
pouring out of my open mouth as i try to speak.

deja vu is not a good enough word,
not a worthy enough mess of letters put
together to make anyone understand the
pain i relive in my own mind every time i
remember that the leaves will turn brown,
and i will turn bitter.

warmth will turn into distance, and i will
start screaming into my rug, blue light washing
over me as i wake up, hair unwashed, bed untouched,
covered in dust.

when the snow falls, i will crawl
into the mirror and hold my hands to my ears,
because it is easier to sit and pull at my rotting skin
than to listen to someone tell me that everything
is fine.

sometimes i like to think that it will be different.
i dream and i pray, i pray for the first time in years that
the leaves are turning  orange,
and that i am fine.





 

ivyparks

VT

15 years old

More by ivyparks

  • clumsy poem

    the sun is rising, and from my
    window i can see the way the maple
    tree sways in the wind, dancing
    along to the earth's howling. 

    i look around me and all i am is
    tired, tired of the bed that makes my
  • love is a sickness

    i have so much of you in my heart,
    but i do not think that i can call the feeling
    within me love because there is
    an overwhelming bitterness that comes
    along with it that it hurts.

    young, i am like a bruised
  • Dependency

    purple and blue and red,
    she is the spring rain as it washes
    over your body, a mere annoyance
    in the wake of his storm.

    she hurts and she grows,
    like a rose, with her thorns drawing
    blood from your greedy fingers,