Skipping rocks
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My life is a narrative of quick fixes
the minimum payment
the splicing of the cassette tape
the candle in place of electricity
my life is my mouth pressed to the carved hole
in the underwater tank
the book read aloud in the car
to mask my own thoughts
the $5 in my gas tank
To just get where I need to go and
My life is the fleeting laugh
to drown the tears.
My life is saying I’m sorry for what others did wrong.
My life is fake flowers, colorful and without fragrance.
My life is a joke to change the subject.
the foundation in the wrong color
on sale at CVS to hide the wrinkled years.
My life is clothes that don’t fit
and the pile put aside
for when i just know they will again.
My life is wiping off the bathroom sink
with my dirty laundry
So it ‘looks’ clean.
It’s sleeping in my clothes because
I don’t have time to change.
My life is splurging for the horror movie
so I forget about folding the laundry
My life is telling everyone, “Don’t worry about it,”
When I never stop worrying.
Blinking back the tears,
because I’m just sneezing —
It really doesn’t hurt.
It’s the over the counter in the place of
a needed prescription.
It’s keeping the lights off in the shower
so I can’t see the truth.
It’s pretending to love the darkness
When I’m really afraid of the light.
Not effacing, it is self-eviscerating.
My life is a blindfold,
over eyes closed,
and letting go of your hand,
before you can do it first.
My life is a minimum payment.
It’s piling smiles on the pain I’ve buried.
to make you feel better.
My life is the silence
used to disguise heartbreak.
It’s a changed subject.
It’s a funny anecdote.
My days are a series of skipped rocks
across life’s surface,
I can’t swim,
I don’t want to know how deep the water is.
It’s quick fixes.
It’s choking on my anger.
A map trail of broken spine leading to another concession.
It’s zero investment.
My life is constantly apologizing for what’s been done to me,
Just so I can breathe another day.
I’ve got this.
It’s on me.
I understand.
Don’t worry about it.
I’m a candle in the darkness.
Vulnerable to even a glance,
My life is a narrative of quick fixes.
As I surrender
to nothing, and again, ask,
But how are you?
