1. 20:59 26th Aug 2010

    Notes: 3

    Tags: my poetry

    happy father’s day

    they say little girls grow up to love a man like her father, but the jaded ones say all he did was show them what they didn’t want. i drift - the muscles, tight, beneath my fingers, they grow and shrink, curve and flatten, the eye color, dims, and brightens. i imagine eyelashes, soft, long, heavy against my cheek, like a baby blanket tucked under my forearms. his hands lifting my feet, jolts, i’m wide awake: the fear of falling, of heaving into emptiness, cracks at the soul, screeching wake up before it’s too late - grasping at fistfuls of blankets, he laughs, a little, because he thinks it’s quirky and cute but doesn’t understand that sometimes little girls grow up not wanting to spend christmas alone or to move into their first apartment by themselves or to call triple A when her car breaks down - they want a hand on their shoulder, a squeeze, the faint smell of body odor and sweat against their skin; the safety of eyelashes against their cheek, enclosing their skin, like petals covering bees.

     
    1. marissaisgod posted this