Midnight.

I look into the white eyes
of the purest of girls,
the purest of women.
She turns her face away in scorn
as words wash over me,
Making small incisions in my tongue,
in the spaces between my teeth.

In my mind,
all the wide open spaces of my heart
are as fields seen from the windows of a car.
I am driving with people
whose language I do not speak
and who’s faces and feelings
I will never understand.
Not in a million months of tears.

Their hands
which are covering their mouths
are nailless
and pockmarked.
Their mouths,
toothless and hollow.

But I have been bleeding all this time
and now my face
is empty too,
and pale like the faces of
the purest of girls,
the purest of women.

 

Advertisement