Scarlet letter – The Daily Writing of Jackie Wright

Rapid Eye Movement

I’ve lived past two cities with contained light sources.

They’re tightening around my neck with some nooses.

My burgundy dresses aligned with their tales

But in order to breathe, I went off the rails.

I’ve lived by five rivers, all seemingly dirty.

The locals swore I wouldn’t leave until thirty.

Now five years have passed and I’m haunted by them –

Isn’t leaving the original REM?

And what if I carry this spirit of judgement?

Somedays my heart runs yet some – it just doesn’t.

I’ve lived past two cities with contained light sources.

Perhaps to escape that I’ll need more wild horses.

-JW

Seven feet of sand was never quite enough to bury my pride.

Half a dozen sprained ankles on dreamy boulevards, but I’m there for the ride.

The thirst is pumping my vessels, it gets the blood rushing –

And the spring smells funny, so candy-like. Am I blushing?

Sweet sugar coats my fingers, oh man, I’m just shooting my shot.

Don’t be the saint – save the prayers and hymns, and whatnots.

You can’t deny my blame but I carry the scarlet letter well.

The Central Park Salinger wrote about is long gone, but so is the spell –

The charm, the colors, the old ways… All soaked in champagne.

Tinsel-filled parties taste so bittersweet, and they end in migraines.

But I’ll let you take a number, sorry it’s colored in blood barely dried –

Seven feet of sand was never quite enough to bury my pride.

-JW