Photo by Lisa Fotios
Another day spent in rose tinted blackout glasses, not seeing the stars.
Raspberry and lime kisses land on my neck, too bad no one’s noticing the scars.
My palms are trembling as neon sky lands over the city, so sweet and so sticky.
The marks on my shoulders are pulsating at sunset. They’re bruises, not hickeys.
Every breath I take rubs you up the wrong way – and you won’t stay neutral.
I’m slowly turning into you though, but I guess the experience is not mutual…
People I knew continue to talk like they enjoy sticking in my craw. Such amateurs.
When new dawn arrives, my conscience is on its knees. The rest is a blur. Or a slur.
With every word you speak I learn one new reason to step away from the car crash
But suddenly your grip feels too fond so I hold on, tie a bow around it and add to the stash
Of things that I should’ve burned to completion when I noticed the tenseness.
Yet – here I am, standing by your window at 3am, without any control, defenseless.
I wish it was different. That kisses didn’t hurt
And words didn’t line up to sound this absurd.
I wish I was angrier. That my bites were sharper,
So abrupt you’d never try me. You’d scarper.
The Daily Writing of Jackie Wright 