Tag: nrg writes

I bought some plantsand put one in each corner.I asked the sun how far he could stretch,waited with him as he reachedthrough this morgue of a house and bringsomething living within.

You noticed the scar I’ve worn on my left handsince I was a little girlfor the first time today, could not believethat you had never seen itgiven the number of times and all the waysmy hands touched your bodyand given the number of hours,that could add up to weeks or months,your eyes raked mine, and…

But I made it home safely. I fellasleep at every red light and let the rattleof the engine be my lullaby, but I made ithome safely. But you don’t know that,and you won’t, even as the moon  lets you know that she too made ithome safely, lets you knowas the sun wakes up tomorrow and…

I feel her come home, know it beforeknuckles tap tap tap on my front door.She is laced in cobwebs, laced in stickinessthat I have walked through before, and could never brush off. She comes homeand she is adorned in shadows, in a wayI never could, despite the black clothesI put on to mourn my human…

I put books on that bottom shelfwhere pieces of you used to restbecause I hated the way it was  staring at me, mouth open,either in shock of it all and feeling sorry for me or out of grief,like me, unableto find the air in the room, leftgasping. 

I am inventing ways to say that I have inhaled you. A new way,because no one understands how my lungs cannot take in oxygen anymore;they are addicted to the chemicals that add upto make the whole of you, but I  can’t find the elements on the periodic table, cannotcreate the compound to satisfy the burn at the bottom of my lungs,so I’ll…

The only way I knew the tang of whiskeywas when I could taste it in your mouthand breathe it in each time you exhaled.So I saved each lick we passed back and forth and knewI would never taste it again.

Mom loves fragile things, and has catalogued eachprecious detailof her ceramic angels.They are smiling at mefrom the bookshelfand offering me somethingto celebrate, but I am  so afraid of what can beeasily broken–I never touchedthose antique wings, so ready to break against my fingertips, but still, I said yes I’ll keep it safe forever when you handed meyour heart of…

I am in lovewith the Florida skyat dawn, exactlyas she sorts through the differentcolors of her emotions– Hurt enoughto let the plumof the day splash acrossthe canvas that kissesthe highway, but brave enough to let the sun reveal the smallest drops of blue.

I am terrified of the light fixturesand the way their dimmed light make her look because I knowthe light hits only my cheekbones and makesmy face look too sad.Not in the way I canromanticize, no,not with my eyesand the way they aresunken in. This roomisn’t mine, and the wallpaper mocks that, laughing alongwith the chairs…