by Ava Blu
i want to write something about the war, about a new-found
experience, a feeling behind the events we see, the pictures of broken limbs, children's eyes on stakes, lips trembling.
i want to be able to find a cure in-between my lines, or even
someone else's lines, just something somewhere;
i started this as a letter to explain the fucked-up day i had,
to explain why the world feels forced to crawl
while i feel forced to hide.
i start it all the same way, though, typing to a future,
and even a past while i pretend the present isn't as damaged
as it seems.
and i changed fonts three times. i took a color from my list, closed my eyes and chose, and i typed as if there was a purpose sitting beside the keyboard as it rests on my lap
and i changed my clothes four times. i took a shirt i hadn't worn since Savannah, and i could have taught a million lessons between now and then, i could have at least traded baseball cards on the sidewalk with the kids that lived beneath me.
i put on red lipstick. i don't know why. no one is here to see. but i put on the reddest color, i even placed it on my cheeks, and i stared out the dark windows. i stared down towards the grass as headlights seemed to pass every hour. it felt like days but i always say that. everything feels like days. i once said something about minutes turning into regrets even though i have none and i wrote this in a bathroom stall once while security banged on the door and my friend called out my name because it was late and the band had left, the place was closed. i was too drunk to answer but i wasn't too drunk to scribble some fake teenage philosophy on the wall. i wasn't wearing pants when i finally opened the door for them. i had to be carried out with my forehead wet from the water they splashed to keep me from passing out. and i begged to be taken to the hospital, "oh please have my stomach pumped, please don't arrest me, please call my mother but please don't" and i heard myself yelling these things and i didn't recognize the language used.
so i put on this red lipstick and i kissed the mirror. i kissed my hand. i kissed the places i could reach. i camouflaged the scratches, i cut my nails. i bled from these lips.
i wanted to start this as a letter. i wanted to explain why today was bad, why i let someone inside me that doesn't belong, why i always say i need to do the right things when i really don't want to, why i share my feelings with wishing wells, birthday candles but no living person ever knows.
i wanted something in this to strike a cord, to become a slash in a throat,
but i think i failed again.
"yeah well maybe I hurt you some,
let's contrast and compare,
lift up your shirt,
the wound isn't there"
- bright eyes
Posted on 05/03/2011
Copyright © 2020 Ava Blu
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 05/03/11 at 03:14 PM|
The level of longing expressed in this is very, very beautifully handled. There's no pretension or a desperate plea for pity to be found. Everything is simply laid on the table, and the poem and perspective are that much better for it. Good stuff.
|Posted by Timothy Wilson on 05/04/11 at 04:26 AM|
I second what Gabe says. This is truly real. And perfecly constructed. Another mind blowing masterpiece for the evergrowing list of ava blue awesomeness
|Posted by Anita Mac on 05/04/11 at 11:36 PM|
I was copying lines to say they were my favorite, but the whole piece is just... perfect for what it is. You are so amazing, you know...? I hope so.
|Posted by Morgan D Hafele on 05/05/11 at 08:41 PM|
you make me want to write something as honest as this. i don't know how to say how incredible this is.
|Posted by Charlie Morgan on 05/06/11 at 07:36 PM|
...of all comments, tho i am in total agreement with them, i agree the mostest with morgan...this honesty is frightening.
|Posted by Joan Serratelli on 05/06/11 at 09:22 PM|
GREAT piece! Thank you!
|Posted by Elizabeth Jill on 05/06/11 at 10:23 PM|
You are one true poet, Ava Blu. Because you let the insides of your words flow like waterfalls. Your authenticity is clear. I would love to see you published. Your poetry/writings outshine much of what I find on shelves these days.
This is another awesome poem.
|Posted by Adele Cameron on 05/09/11 at 06:19 AM|
it reads like a slow circle, it reads like a story meant to be told.
|Posted by Julie Adams on 05/09/11 at 07:31 PM|
Reading you makes me braver in the world. I am ever grateful to you for that. Peace to u always, poet xoxoxo ~jewels
|Posted by Elizabeth Jill on 06/23/11 at 03:04 AM|
I had to come back and favorite this. [ahem]I'm more choosey about favorites now than I was when I first started here :/ [/ahem] I love our notes to you here. Hope you're taking them to heart. I've missed your poems lately, dudette
|Posted by Richard Vince on 08/08/20 at 12:43 PM|
not sure what i can say that others have not said in earlier comments. disarmingly honest, movingly real. the indefinable feeling of late night loneliness woven into words. this will stay with me.