I never thought I'd long for the sting
of stale cigarettes in my nostrils each night,
as I watch the shadows of trees haunt my bedroom walls.
Or the taste of old wine prickling my mouth and burning
my throat as if it knew I was too young to lie.
I never thought I'd revel to tread down creaky sunrise stairs,
awash with old anxieties and the idea that somewhere,
under mossy earth, you'd stir a final time. To that, I wouldn't be opposed.
I never thought my hands would remember what my mind could not,
the ridges of your identity, and eternity in your rings.
I never thought my heart would melt with glacial pace
instead of break all at once, though I would have preferred
the latter.
About the Creator
Kaitlin Oster
Professional writer.
Owner - Shadow Work Consulting, LLC
David Lynch MFA Program for Screenwriting with MIU, graduation 2023
Writing collaboration or work, speaking engagements, interviews - [email protected]
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.