A Confession to the Dead

Warm water rushed up the bubblegum walls of a room I called home to the age of 14
Ethereal creatures, niveous nothings
Colubrine eyes staring soullessly forward 
Waiting, wading into water 
Snatching up the shattered dreams we lost in stained-up carpets
On beige floors where I slept Christmas Eve, a friend left red crayons and redder eyes when she was gone 
Red lipstick, red faces, red coats in the closet remind me to breathe and forget what I know
Forget what I am, when I sit in still silence
Strong women, struck bloody, clutch small silver shapes in their manicured hands
Out of fear that corrodes, that eats away the kindness of a pounding heart Out of will to love a martyr, when her words were blasphemy 
I open my eyes to see a serpent staring back 
A drowned, decaying face in a pool of molten silver on the wall 
I act as a mortician, painting over lifeless eyes until they love again the world that has been robbed from them
I fear you will forgive me
I wish the world will wake to hear you preach with breathless lungs about their hand in your life’s end 
And someday I will scream back to your ears long since decayed to say simply
I love you

This poem is about: 
Me
My community
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

Comments

weepingwillowtree

this poem struck something in me. beautifly writen 

 

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