You were not enough,
– warped genes on mass destruction.
I took bits of you that glimmered,
left the hull to wither.
Your best parts shined unique,
– wasted in you but infusing in me.
When I don your flair every eye
stares. Rolling your flow, bobbing your
track, the words just go – cruel attack.
Despair not, I will carry your good.
– nurture perspective wrapped in thunder.
This part of you I immortalize
while you siphon poison –
rotting the physical, losing grip.
Wind whipped tangled locks,
traces of late-night havoc still
clinging to the skin. Seeping
regret tinged red and green –
jealous as an itch on missed flesh.
The edge altered reality, tilting
the grip, slipping the step, blurring
the hold – slighting gravity.
Double the trip and let the mind
dip farther past matter. Stretch out,
reaching, grasping, swiping –
pregnant as a pause on hushed lips.
If tottered too far up the steep sweeping
stoop – binge on delusion in last fleeting
moments. Until the bottom comes quick.
Thank you, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for fun Friday fiction. Thank you, Maria Gale Stratford for the photo.
Since April is Poetry Month, I crafted a few lines inspired by how dizzy I got thinking how high up the building was – and how much further the Marriott stretches. I saw a party-girl waking up disoriented and curious, foolishly teetering on the edge – the edge of the building and the edge of decency.
Click the Frog to read diverse interpretations of this photo prompt from Friday Fictioneers writers.
Thank you for reading!
@MmePhilosopher
