The Descent

Keep Art Alive :: “The Descent” :: Art by Sarah Joncas

I should be crying,
but I just can’t let it show.
I should be hoping,
but I can’t stop thinking.”

A girl and her blues
by me

The blows are unexpected,
they sneak in through a left open window,
or bleed out from the contents of a song,
leaving in their wake purple rising bruises,
in places marked easy-to-hide,
because this is the kind of pain meant to be kept solitary.

It passes through me like ghosts ships full of forgotten treasure,
that only I can see,
after a five shot night of whiskey,
or a twist tryst with someone who calls you by every name,
but your own.

Its as if my face casting shadows on your bed sheets,
needs to be blurred out and painted over,
twisted into some unrecognizable fantasy,
that just cements all those grade school slurs,
and the party invitations that missed my post box,
every year.

I grow so weary of the endless re-writes and character studies,
ever the muse just thrown into a new set and form,
drawn by a different artist’s hand,
or are you just a killer in a spray paint disguise?

After awhile someone else’s lines turn into my own,
and I lock the bathroom door behind me afterwards,
watch black streaks of borrowed eyeliner slide down my skin,
as I feel nothing but the cold tiles under bare feet,
ever searching the mirror’s reflection,
to find who I am anymore.

It is then the marks become visible,
gashes that spell out every weakness and lie,
and I think to myself,
that there are not enough tears in one girl’s lifetime,
to make this ever okay.

Maybe you should have just forged my passport,
and penned me into someone from your “what if” stories,
at least then I could read ahead,
and see how it was all meant to
end.

This Woman’s Work :: Kate Bush

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