By some twist in irony this is exactly a year old and somehow it’s relevant again. Cycles, full circle, something. Thanks for partaking in my whine.
Sometimes I wish I could be the mom That my father claims I am. Shitty and repulsive With no other care. I couldn’t be the person In the narrative he keeps, The story he likes to tell about me. The daughter that left her child. The daughter that only comes around for money. The daughter that only cares about the next party. Tonight I’ll try to convince myself All these things I do aren’t just for show. I’ll wish I were beautiful. I’ll wish I were smart. I’ll wish I hadn’t broken your heart. I’ll tell myself everyone’s proud of me. Tonight I’ll sit on my bathroom floor With my broken bottle of whine And cry myself to sleep. So when I wake tomorrow It will all just be a bad dream And my bottle of my whine Will be poised on the counter neatly, Waiting to be filled with Broken expectations and unfulfilled dreams, Bad words and ugly names, Until it overflows and needs to be broken again. Then I’ll sit on my bathroom floor With the weight of this world, Frothing and rushing, Threatening to drown me But never winning out.
I comb my drafts for moments when I was real. A crumb trail back to seconds I couldn’t feel. I throwback sour liquors and sweet wines, one small glass at a time. I tell myself the rest can flood the drain if these will just numb the brain. I wish my life away, churning day dreams. I wait for the moment when my soul detangles from yours When I can no longer feel your heart ache in my bones. I’m afraid If I can’t feel, you’ll cease to be real.
I swallowed a seed Completely on accident you see It nestled to the folds of my being Grew within me Ivy limbs sprinted for the Sun I wanted to tell you not to be afraid But my tongue is replaced And bark hardens my veins.
Photo: Cal Redback – to see more of his work click here
Today I wondered What I’d done to survive this long. How have I Kept seeing blue skies? Thoughts kept quiet, Crept steadily forward. You weren’t there But I felt you at my back. Your voice becomes The beat to my degenerative drum. Today, you won.
Once again I’m reposting. This was originally published in … maybe about a year ago in 2018 I think and the WordPress prompt of the day was Black. I couldn’t help myself back then and I can’t help myself today. Tell me about your favorite music?
People are a little weird. That’s the mantra of this town. Specters and night crawlers With thigh high make up In star bowler company Smoke infinitely long rings of mood dust. Then there was me And you Collapsing across peeling laminate counter tops And day old sandwiches With the the bread always toasted. How one falls In this topsy turvy place, From barstools to backseats. Or bedsheets. Up? I suppose it only makes sense. This has never been the city of dreams But we liked to pretend. And why not? There always has been, There always will be, More ways to fall in love.