I was brushing my teeth
It's a violation of not just the body, but the mind.
Distantly, I wonder whether
it is my face that I can see in the mirror.
Surrounded by fog, I stretch and contort; wipe at
the steam and dig for that person I thought I knew.
Romantic notions long-since disappeared. I swipe,
and swipe, and swipe–and
can’t see past the hands that aren’t mine;
there, but not there,
I’m myself but I am not myself.
One more body hits the
never-ending battleground.
About the Creator
C. R. Drinkwater
An unserious writer who can’t finish a project.
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Compelling and original writing
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Excellent storytelling
Original narrative & well developed characters
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More stories from C. R. Drinkwater and writers in Poets and other communities.
Perfect Little Pirate
The rough, sodden rope bit into her fingers as she swung over the roiling water far below. Reaching out with the toe of her boot, she managed to catch hold of the rain-soaked railing of the ship- and promptly slipped. Throwing herself forward, she landed hard on the deck, slamming her elbows against the wood planks. The sharp yelp of pain quickly bubbled into a laugh, and she rolled onto her back, laughing up at the gray sky as a torrent of rain washed away the soot covering her skin.
By M. A. Mehan 7 days ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
Wow! This is so haunting. Beautifully done. 💓
This poem clearly depicts an unfocused mind, yearning and questioning. I can imagine the words creeping up from under the surface to quietly appear when readers' thoughts wander. Very well done!