top of page
  • Elizabeth Woodson

Sundering realities

Updated: Dec 10, 2021

I’ve tasted memories of yours where I’m in fact as bad as they claim I am. My teeth are rotten, my legs and back dressed with marks of stretching. My mind collapsing on itself with enemies I cannot find with my eyes, my hands, nor my breath.

There is no going backwards as if to press rewind would mean the same thing as to heal. It doesn’t. Going backwards is nothing but a caffeine induced headache simmering underneath currents that could have calmed what was only chaos before control went out the window of a moving car.

I choose my mothers, for hers doesn’t leave me toothless, or marked by men who only want small infinities, but it’s too late. There is no going backwards so let this split reality run all the way up.

Sometimes I think of you like you are my one true love and when you give me the space too, we live happily in my memories. I gift to you little moments under the moon and you gift me nothing and I am finally happy.

Then I’m reminded that you are him, and him, and him. Wanting revenge against me as if it were my walls keeping you from seeing the ocean. As if it were me who built a concrete brick beach to replace what was granted to me by god. You’ll have your revenge and I’ll forgive and forget just the same.

Young boys with no map have no business walking my forests at night nor do I have no business commenting on their forgotten children.

Apparently the drink is either always drank or never at all. She wanted her parents to be together so there was I never to drink but also never to love. I thought I’d be with the richer man, and perhaps I am.

45 views0 comments
bottom of page