Pistachios
I no longer know what to do with myself
I don't know anymore
I am filled entirely
I am insecure
I mean its like you've the nuts walked out
and we are left with just a shell
a husk
a memory
but nothing more
because you see there is no more meat left
Just the salt
coating itself around us
encasing us
leaving all the bitter memory and the idea of sustenance
Where are we going?
Is this it?
is this a foreshadowing?
my dreams speak volumes
and your eyes read spoilers
leaving me. feeling lost and broken
a sea of saltwater tears are becoming my normal surroundings
and I am drowning
in myself, ourselves, and all that i have known
I can feel the cracks in our foundations
the gravel falling out
like snow on Christmas day
never ending
endless and paradoxical
I hate the cold.
i hate the snow but its so beautiful
and that is us
snow
now we are snow
beautiful and clean and pure and crisp and all the nice positive ways of describing it.
but then what happens when the snow falls
it becomes consumed and filled with tainted dirt and sludge
and then it shows us false pretenses
pretending to be
beautiful and clean and pure and crisp and all the nice positive ways of describing it until you touch it
press yourself in it.
emerge in it
The crunch, sound all beautiful until you feel it cut at your ankles
or got thrown hard at your ears as it bruises you.
but somehow you still love the snow.
you made me love the snow.
and i don't want to hate it.
I want to fall in it.
freshly laid
I want to feel the fluff
before my tears melt
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poem by Jennifer Gordon
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