Empty promises and open bottle litter the floor and I smash them with my boots.I let them crunch under my feet at this ungodly hour but the music is still playing and we haven’t gotten any noise complaints yet. Breathe out the empty. I know I’m not good at this, I know I should be better at this, have been better at this.
In the wake of the night, in the heat of the morning we are slaves to this thing we call life.
We have been bruised and broken because we were never told that the callouses on our hands are the mark of good work. They are the mark of good work they are good things.
We sit perched on the mountains of madness, everything ready to fall away fall apart, fall into something unrecognizable.
We are the thing that we fear the most.
We are the old and the broken except we are not. We are young but we are getting there.
Can you feel it when you wake up in the morning? Are your bones a little more brittle, are your dreams a little darker, a little smaller?
A little less bright than they were when you were seventeen and you said you were going to be something special but now you live in the house everyone thinks is beautiful. You sold that soul to get it.
You put that version of yourself in a bottle and you said wait for me okay, wait for me with no air, but don’t go away.
Don’t suffocate. Just wait for years and years and years until I give you permission to take a breathe again.
Just wait.
I put my heart in a jar in the corner and said wait.
I put everything I had on hold because there were supposed to be responsibilities but that’s a violent word don’t you think?
Because it just means responsible to everything and anything that you gave everything away to keep.
I am running, I am running full speed and I do not know how to make my feet stop moving, make them stop pushing, make them stop wishing.
Reblogged this on The Militant Negro™.
Very interesting. I could feel myself in your words. Love it.
thank you :)
Painfully angst-ridden piece, it spoke to me.
Thank you for visiting Sound Bite Fiction.
Dear Miri Elm,
This was a cool blog to read, it was interesting and I couldn’t stop reading it. I like how you shared this poem it was like deep you know it gets to people because that’s how deep it was. Thanks for sharing your poem. I like to read it and hope to read me.
Carlos
thanks carlos!
It’s a nice write up & my best wishes.
Check my latest writeup on #Women #Modesty.
http://clicksbysiba.com/2017/11/07/lets-respect-her-the-way-she-is-born-the-way-she-wants-to-live/
Thank you for the follow Miri, like your style at first glance look forward to exploring some more. Chris.
thanks chris :)
I love this. It is a work of great depth ?
I really enjoyed this. I felt part of the piece.
thank you :)
Enjoyed this story. I like the style.
thank you!
Fascinating if bleak. I like to hope that such self-awareness is at least one step to leaving the rat-race we impose on ourselves.
Very evocative, very pacey, very captivating.
thank you :)
Miri your story is poignant..rings true and beautifully lived!!!
Poignant
Intense. Well done! :-)
–Michael
Thanks Michael, always glad to hear what you think :). I just downloaded your book, excited to read it.
You write beautifully. Which book did you download? If you wish, you can email me: emhelms63@yahoo.com
Thanks, Miri! :-)
–Michael
Hi Michael, sorry for the late reply! It appears your books are not available for kindle download in canada, I was trying to download Proud Bastards, know anywhere I can find that around here? I sent you an email as well :)
Lovely Expressed