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2am Cigarettes after 2nd Rate Wine
by Therese ElaineTonight is a melancholy remembrance of the ghost of who I used to be and I find this dead end melody is beginning to dull the senses and my fingers ache to create, to mold, to bury themselves in texture and tactile bliss and my mind aches to stretch itself beyond the pale that it seems to have settled for and I'm restless and wanting and though my needs have changed the need for them has remained the same and the cherry velvet blush that used to stain my cheeks comes less from indiscreet remarks and more from sheer frustration and the fiery heat that used to snake through my veins seems nothing more than a ember that serves as a reminder of the woman I used to be and I blame convention and codependence and social constraints, that politeness like a venom that poisons every conversation and perhaps its everyone else but I can't help but think its me, I've begun to force the smiles and that brittle laughter comes and remains like the most impossible spun sugar confection and I wonder if I've become unacceptable or simply unaccepting, if its self-loathing or superiority that makes me seek comfort in characters and coffee cups and I retreat from the false prophet of interaction to that which at least is known, is familiar, is safe and just when I think that there is no point in seeking, no reason for searching and stripping away the layers that have papered me like a faded shroud of obsolescence, when I feel that I should stop and let the world move around me instead of moving within it -I see the burning light at the end of my cigarette and it reminds me that a bit of fire is alive in my mind, that tiny bit of my essence is bravely stuttering in the dark and that it only needs a bit of help, a cupping of the hand and a calming of the winds to make it burst into an inferno, to let me be reborn, to be great and generous and whole and someday perhaps,
truly happy. 08/20/2005 Author's Note: Ah, how time changes one's perceptions/positions. I am no longer this woman -and yet, I always will keep part of her with me. She's just another ghost rattling around my insides.
Posted on 01/09/2007
Copyright © 2024 Therese Elaine
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Steven Kenworthy on 01/10/07 at 01:12 PM complexly funny how something like a cigarette can symbolize that small glimmer of hope we all ache and yearn for. written in typical tb style, i like it as usual. reads like a postcard to the gods of relief from some dark place. amazing how we're always recycling ourselves isn't it? good times here. |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 06/12/07 at 12:55 AM Wow! Amazing prose Therese. Excellently positive ending. Adds too favourites. :o) |
| Posted by Morgan D Hafele on 11/16/08 at 12:14 AM true happiness is something i've wondered about... does it really exist? either way, fantastic write |
| Posted by William Brunk on 12/29/09 at 08:25 PM well done...loved this magnificent rant. |
| Posted by Tom Goss on 07/27/10 at 03:37 AM Beauty swirls like black coffee down the drain of self, and the smoky reflections that rise from your lips form origami kisses that light up the night sky. |
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