Monday, April 29, 2013

metaphor, and then some

You linger on long past your welcome, holding on for dearest life. The long hallway grows dark and narrow, crowded only with pain and ghosts. The heart swells, the heart sinks. You flip the switch, though you know there is no light.

Waiting by your bedroom window, waiting like letters on the line. The words you say, the words you send. The way you hold your breath and watch the light bend, broken by the surface. The stars just ripple in the wind, the heat  clinging to the walls and your flesh. You are broken and it's getting worse. You are broken and the end won't come.

Every breath is tears and gashes. Every breath is swarms and swelter. Sweat glistens upon the frayed and weary flesh, constellations of salt and glimmer settling like fever on your brow. The words don't work, the sounds don't matter. Wings suddenly take to the sky. Your heart  is wild, something startled in the long reeds. Your heart is wild, a caged bird throttling the bars. You know this is bound to happen. You know the metaphor only eases the strain upon the bones, it does nothing to stabilize the structure.

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