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maybe is the only thing left in the middle
by Ava Blueven the bluebirds have stopped chirping
because the air was muffled
and the silence is weighted enough to carry
the windows are wide open
as the screen door slams,
opens,
and slams again;
the wind creating the sequence
i feel the cold of the beer
as i swoosh the liquid around my teeth;
the flavors are lost on me
the breath is foggy,
warm enough to allow me another drink
and they say you shouldn't go looking
for what's underneath the house
and you shouldn't seek what
has yet to be found
but bravery sets in
and the drugs have entered my veins
heart pumping with each step
i crawl inside the damp space
that was always at full capacity
and this is my glass never empty
this is my room never closed
because i cannot say no
and this is not my adventure
because i cannot say yes
tomorrow i will awake
to a new adventure
with no memory of the old. 04/10/2009 Posted on 04/11/2009
Copyright © 2024 Ava Blu
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 04/11/09 at 01:50 AM It's kind of a cliche to compliment a writer on doing such a brilliant job of pulling the reader right into the moment, making every image and the whole scene as clear as a photograph, but that's exactly what you've done here. This is strange, quietly haunting stuff. This is the work of a damn good storyteller putting it all into some great poetic justice. |
| Posted by Laura Doom on 04/12/09 at 09:33 PM Maybe is no way. I can taste the contradiction -- here's to adventure :>) |
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