1.143 – Deleting a Life

She’s putting her dreams on hold

too often told

her words would not be sold

or could be

at discount prices

on unshopped racks

in closed bookstores.

She’s putting her dreams aside

swallowing her pride

the images in her head

better left unsaid

dead

in a pool of water

left by tears of failure.

She’s closing the book on her book

the ink in her pen dried to bone

better left alone

and sent out to sea

a vision of castaways

left upon the isle

under the beaming kisses of a sun

that could not find his wife

would not dedicate his life

to making things better

no matter the whether

or not he should have.

She writes in the night

to hide the streams

lapping the keys

because she knows

this is a dead end road

beaten and bruised

this path shall remain cloaked

with the remnants of someone elses success

all the while

the lights flicker

and her heart is faint

because the fridge is still empty

She forgets her dreams and shrugs on the shawl of

worker bee

the drone in the marching band army

singing a tune

she lost control of somewhere around the age of eleven.

But she was seven when the pain choked her out

kissed her eyes goodnight

and damned her to fail

pulling at the dirt

to no avail

the grave she lives in

the grave she dug

unable to be saved

by your God

any God

Beauty is a whisper

and so she screams

lacking the power to conquer

herself.

She’s burning the pages of her book

no second thought

no second look

wilting and withering in the brush

No dream lost

if no dream was ever had

empty palms

bleed ringlets of alphabetic droplets

spirals of vowels

showering consonants across continents

where hope died on roads to mecca

two paces forward

twenty eight back

into the womb

hiding in the dark.

Release me.

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2 comments on “1.143 – Deleting a Life

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