she climbs stairs
ten steps and counting
(and somewhere there's a young
fool ready to put everything
on the line just to find out
where she's going, why she keeps
coming back) up and down is so
much motion that it almost loses
motion altogether and becomes
instead a constant humming in the
corner of your mind you no longer
listen to anymore for fear it
will end up breaking you in half.
we measure what's real and what
could be real if only it has the
chance to grow in hands that pray
for mercy, beg indifference and
crush the flowers we have that were
given to us by those who did more
damage than good by only wanting to
be kind and generous. a peace offering
when there is still so much war
alive inside of us, bombs blasting in
no definate direction but hitting
anything and everything that threatens
to open our eyes to the idea that there
was/is so much more than whats hiding
in our mouths and in our pockets.
we keep our distance by keeping our
arms closed and furious in hopes that
if another were to look they would see
this and nothing else. we are plaintively
saying that this is all we have. we are
bricks and unable to bend to someone else's
opinion, the thought that follows and quite
possibly, the understanding. a protective
shield that eventually becomes as worn and
tired as an old pair of socks. and if we
were to ever shake ourselves off of such
untrust, speaking in italics i surrender
i surrender
who will be there to dust us off saying,
"i know rock-bottom, i've been there myself."
a hand, a kiss, the thrill of something new,
different, the spark of trust being ignited
and then just like that it blows away or
he takes it from you. and you're back to
climbing stairs again, ten steps and counting,
the only consistent progress you've ever been
sure about.

04/03/2003

Author's Note: for you, for me, for addiction and love, for foolish boys and foolish thoughts, for anything, everything, all of the above.

Posted on 04/03/2003
Copyright © 2026 Olivia Weinkein