You are my cure
I am your whore
excuses fly
in order
to leave my room
and I bring my hands to my
head
to relieve pain
from knocking
knocking on my brain
The smell of you still
lingering on my fingers
I breathe in
to hold on a little longer
and with an empty kiss
I exhale
and
blow
you
away.
Accelerate
beyond
the last stop light
where I leave it all behind.
Memories of a small child
learning to swim
a small memory of me
sunrise awoke her
small smiling eyes
running to the water
to swing her toes close
enough to touch
before she would dare
to risk it all
and spring from the edge
of the splintering wood
she called home.
She awakes
12 years later
to the clock radio
screaming
"Get the fuck up."
swollen eyes
pushing through
sticky lids
nothing makes her rush
pulling her toes to the
bathroom
starts the water, with
the same tempature
as the day before
she stares in the mirror
until her face becomes
unable to see
pushing herself to that day
of monotonous tones
hopeless thoughts
thoughts of marriage
thoughts of becoming a success
thoughts of becoming a woman
that once had the
fearlessness
of risking it all.
Clouds begging to cover the
moon
to hide the ugly
in the dark
winds fly
from the ocean
allowing my hair
to have its way with me
I think of whirl winds
and natural disaster
this place
this town
my latitude
and longitude
where I am
how I was
what I used to be
lonely breezes
cold empty
making love to me
I see blue
then red
then blue
remembering the death
of the you part of me
mourning for misery
intensity
giving birth to me
Sooner or later you will no
longer lay beside me in the
mornings
of blood shot eyes
and freeway sounds
the open window
brings in lonely breezes
and the stench of exhaust
I lie here and wait
for the day it will be the
last
dreams and memories
invading my cloudy head
I listen to you breathe
and your silouhette
traced by my finger
unmoving, still
imagining
you love me
I have you this moment
while the world sleeps
around me
you are silent
words I don't want to hear
are unspoken
and you love me
in my head my love
I become your angel
and this morning
I pray before you
in hopes
that you awake
and see me like you used to
when the world was you and I
when my words were more than
noise
and my kiss meant more
than an invitation inside
of me
when my mornings weren't
imaginations and hopes
and when you awoke
I was your angel
flying through you
now these words
have been filed
in the back cabinet
by number
by statistic
the beautiful
or not so-
# 3,341
Tina Kelly was born in Sanbornton, NH. She
attended Plymouth State University, graduating with a BA in art, and then
went to
Carlsbad, Calif. to become a graduate jeweler gemologist at the Gemological
Institute of America. Kelly moved to East Boston in 2003 and lives on Eagle
Hill with her husband and daughter.
Maybe Im a little less
pitiful than before
and maybe I'm learning
to finally
give a shit less about you
its about time
that I realize maybe
nothing I said or did
really mattered much
to you
I have moved away
opened the door
and set you free
from me
these lines of poetry
will no longer be
remembering
how or why I loved you
or why you couldn't love me
and I hope I am done
playing sad songs
on the car stereo
and screaming
profanities
at you
it is wasting sound
I have come to ignore
the stories
of how pretty
or nice looking
or lusterous
every other woman is
knowing
that woman will
never
be
me
I know now
what I want
is never you
it is
the image I want you to be
and I know now to let it go
to sail above the insults
the humility
and love myself enough
to walk away
head in the sky
soaring
so far above you
and let what is dead-
die