triptych that’s not a love story
I.
desire – you want what’s out of reach.
it’s why I pushed myself away, all those
years ago, off the wall of the shallow
end.
you wanted to see me, and that scared me. even more frightening, I wanted you to see me.
really, I wanted you to be a lifeguard
wearing rose-tinted glasses that
caught only how the sunlight hit the
droplets on my body thrashing like
a sparrow, fractals of light pooling
on my skin & violently glittering from
far
away.
II.
regret’s hair is overgrown and falling into her eyes with twists and tangles at every turn
spit-shined thoughts are caked into the grimy knots
possibilities covered in rust corroded by chlorine
the ends split over and over
getting closer
and closer
to infinitely
nothing
dragging
on,
on
the
floor.
she whispers incessantly
“What could have been?”
the shadow she casts
lingers within.
III.
in my finger there’s a splinter
from months ago or maybe years, that unrelenting
dot that time grew
. around
in spiral.
is it too late?
if I was to sink myself into the mulch and scrape at the edges of the wound, pierce the earth and let it bleed over, carve out sweet rot and find overripe wet, the white hot and red and biting white again,
would I find that the
anchor
I had
held
onto
for so long
molded around,
prayed to, and
swallowed
whole
was but a sliver, here, in the palm of my hand.
comments:
the formatting of this poem is different but I couldn't find a way to adjust that :( included "far away" being left adjusted, "time grew around in spiral" around the period, and the "anchor I had held onto" section being formatted to look like an anchor.