Beauty in the Soil
My silent mind grows loud,
a face lost in the crowd.
An extinguished light inside me,
no star in sight to guide me.
A failed attempt at life,
filled with unwanted fear and strife.
Can this be turned around?
He was my fourth dimension
I saw by him
Understood through him
Loved only what he loved
I sensed my own skin from his touch
I burned where he brushed me
Withered in the places he ignored
Knew the edges and corners of my body by the pockets of his
The television shuts off
and its controller is dropped to the floor.
the hand that had once mastered it follows but is held back by an anchor that only allows it to hang a mere inch away from the grime-ridden tiles that let roaches and rats rape its grout. the anchor remains collapsed in his chesterfield office chair as he stares unblinkingly into his television’s black face. his drained eyelids droop, but remain lifted enough for his pupils to peer through dried mucus and stray tufts of hair whose stench attracts follicle-violating ants. his jaw remains slack as his lungs heave a breath that the rising tides of wrinkles in his clothes hide along with the rippling in his skin caused by the protruding ridges of a suffocating ribcage.
I hope you’re reading this because I can’t say it.
I don’t know exactly how I feel, so I’m gonna try my best.
This might be confusing, but if you make it to the end,
there could be some clarification by the time you get there.
I like you. A lot.
Watching from afar just got too hard so I’m doing this now.
I can’t gather the courage to do it in person.
I’m just not strong enough for that.
So that’s why I’m writing this.
At least some way, these thoughts won’t just languish in my head.
Spinning there, constantly trying to suck me into that vacuum of doubt and overthinking.
So I’m writing.
To be kind of sappy.
Those things about your smile and your laugh.
That I miss you while you’re gone.
Very Hallmark of me.
But then I write the things that don’t make it on a $4 card.
How you’re the only girl that my friends ever approved of, even though we’re not dating.
That my mother constantly asks how you are and what you’re doing.
Thinking about how everyone says we look flawless together in pictures.
Thinking about how people say we’d be a great couple.
Thoughts that constantly run through my mind,
tripping over each other and falling into this pile of uncertainty culminating in this one question.
What do I really want?
I think I want to give it a shot.
Yeah, it might not work.
It could end horribly. Those thoughts creep into my head too.
How couldn’t they?
Maintaining the status quo is so much easier and less terrifying than taking a huge risk.
To me, this is a risk worth taking.