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The fine lines
by Meghan HelmichSometimes I am flooded with guilt
for touching my breasts at night and
stumbling into sleep on the thoughts of past lovers
pressing white fingerprints into me.
I am sure the world has been studying me
since I learned how to breathe, and now
I toss my hands and smooth my hair
and suck in my stretch-marked belly just to be sure.
I enjoy living in the lonely words of others
and dig for parallels in my stringy despair
to see how much I can weep into a megaphone
without drawing attention to my front door.
When I am alone I repeat conversations
I couldn't control and whisper what I should've said
because my hindsight is the wittiest
motherfucker I've ever met. 12/27/2011 Author's Note: "It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah."
Posted on 12/27/2011
Copyright © 2024 Meghan Helmich
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Joe Cramer on 12/28/11 at 02:45 PM ... outstanding..... |
| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 12/28/11 at 03:03 PM Some of these lines scrape the bone a little too frequently, and I love that. Inspiring work. |
| Posted by Mo Couts on 12/28/11 at 08:48 PM Per usual, absolutely fabulous and catching. You're made of awesome and you should know it =) |
| Posted by Sal Haefling on 01/04/12 at 07:38 PM Whoa, this is one of the best my eyeballs have ever stumbled upon! |
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