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topic: i can't put myself back together
by Rachelle Howeanxiety was never prescribed for ulcers.
forgiveness was never an antacid for disdain.
and i'm sitting here,
staring at the bottle of pills
that i could swallow with vodka,
or the razorblade
that could lull me to sleep.
(if only i had the guts.)
but mine have been carved out.
i was your thanksgiving feast.
you ate me, one bite after another.
i had searched for the recipe,
thumbed through my cue cards and
rolodexes in hopes to find the answer,
but i've only got two teaspoons of reality,
and an empty butter tub of optimism.
(i've only got scarce moments
until i fall apart completely.)
i'll never be stitched together
without the pieces
you five fingered along the way. 11/21/2003 Author's Note: great topic, by miss sarah k smith
AND THAT SUCKS. okay. the actual topic was "i can't put myself back together without the pieces you've kept." but the title thing wouldn't let me put that. o.O
Posted on 11/21/2003
Copyright © 2024 Rachelle Howe
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Don Coffman on 11/23/03 at 11:19 PM You're gonna make that favor difficult, heh. It's gonna take some work to find any cracks and blemishes, cuz you've done it far too well. :) It's great to read what you do with these topics, getting ponderous and honest concepts from them. |
| Posted by Max Bouillet on 11/25/03 at 04:26 PM You hate it. Alaina def loves it. Hate to go against you on this one Rachelle, but I agree with Alaina. Great images and flow! :) |
| Posted by Kristine Briese on 11/25/03 at 07:30 PM Exquisite, as usual. |
| Posted by Lindsay Sanders on 11/25/03 at 08:49 PM funny how the what is hideous in you eyes is perfectly sublime in the eyes of others. i adore this rachelle. |
| Posted by Laura Doom on 11/25/03 at 11:38 PM thisis poetry |
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