The Boy That Never Was
The Boy That Never Was
There’s a candle in my window for
the boy who never was.
It flickers just as brightly as
the laughter in his eyes. The warmth
inside his heart is matched by nothing
but the flame, and the tiny drips
of melted wax, intricate as his mind.
The candle burns to mourn this boy,
the one I could have loved.
He may have lived - this boy, indeed.
But mine he never was.
More Posts from Laceandpaper and Others
Somewhere Over the Rainbow
Before our first date you bought me white lilies. I guessed you didn’t know the symbolism. But as the two of us become one for the who-knows-what time – you, deep inside me and I, clenched tight around you – I wonder if you did. Sometimes I feel as if we have become dead together. Your burning skin pressed against me, answering my need, no longer smells like cinnamon, only sweat. As your lips caress my collarbone, my breast, my navel you no longer taste strawberry, only salt. This four-story apartment building, box-shaped and bland, no longer is a stepping stone to a better life, but just another reminder of how our plans fell through. I remember the lilies as your hands squeeze my aching flesh, too warm for a corpse. The sun rises and the birds chirp and I convince myself that we are not yet dead. Even if that sun has long faded our yellow curtains. Even if we hardly speak. Even if you no longer call me liebe, though we still make love. Even if your touch is the only thing I’m still living for.
One Speck Spoils the Glass
Awake in a photo. Black and white, head hurts too much for color. Loose black slacks drape over a barely there dress on the floor. Milk on the nightstand in front of a background of wood. My hands rest on my stomach. Is milk on my skin? Man’s milk, perhaps. I want milk. What did I do last night? Rolling over, see what I did. He has a stressed smile, spindly at the ends, emblazoned with a promise. Don’t think I want what he’s offering. A sour taste coats my mouth. Turn over, drink the milk. If only the creamy froth could make my insides in its image. The word “milk” crowns everything. I too would like to be pure white.
Repentance (Part Three of To Save A Wretch Like Me)
The third and final part of the collection, To Save A Wretch Like Me, contains the resolution for the lovers as they reach their rock bottom and are left to pick themselves up and find their way back to themselves on their own.
T-Minus 21
Twenty-one guns in a sudden burst
he is number six and comes with
a false sense of security and unexpected
endings at no extra cost
run through the flowers to fall off the cliff
Twenty past birth and settling too young
he is number five and he is easy he is
there he is sweet and he is kind
but he is not wanted
there is no hurt when the time runs out
Nineteen and accelerating fast
he is number four and he is nothing she
has known before or ever expected
it’s only perfect to a point
so the crash and burn is all the harder
Eighteen is self-centered and self-loathing
he is number three and he makes her feel
good but he is nothing that she wants
and little that she needs
it breaks her heart to crush his devotion
Seventeen owns naivete in every color
he is number two and he takes the pale pink
of unearned trust and stains it dark red
with sudden abandonment
it is her first lesson in one-sided love
Sixteen sweet doesn’t know any better
he is number one and he is her sun
and she is burned by his brilliance
brightness masking flaws
he is the high that will always be chased
Fifteen to One and more lifetime lived
than the rest combined but somehow less
if they knew what was coming
Perhaps
they wouldn’t have rushed.
Glass Bottle Wrapped in Cloth - Rachel Schneider
Medium:
Graphite on Bristol Paper
Winter
A special snowflake disappears on warm skin
just like all the others.
Frost laden bark skeletons scar the sky,
casting shadows in the sub-zero sun
shining on the deathly pallor coating the ground.
The branches look so alone
without leaves to bridge the gaps.
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
There is no desire left to melt this frozen world.
To Save A Wretch Like Me
In an attempt to inspire myself to start writing again, I have decided to gradually post the poetry collection I wrote during my last semester of college. It tells the story of two young lovers caught in an unhealthy relationship, confused by the values they've been brought up with, struggling to figure out what directions they're meant to take in life. A lot of the poems are still rather rough and I welcome feedback, but as a whole I hope you enjoy the collection.
Without further ado, I shall present poems from the collection, To Save a Wretch Like Me. To begin, part one: Temptation
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