Wired on a Porcelain Frame

I make art and write for others.

My best friend asked me to write a poem for her 3 years ago.

After receiving this she finally decided to commit to drug rehabilitation and has been clean ever since.

The painting represents her transformation.

 

Silence lashes of the whip cream up around the corner staircase,

And the dreams of her past written on subway walls,

Fade away as she runs through her kaleidoscope halls.

And her imprinted memories written like a canvas shown in a glass display case,

Unable to reach but able to be seen,

See,

some believe "all you touch and all you see are all your life will ever be.”

But there’s blood in the air and resentment shoved into the corners of her home.

 

It's like we are conditioned not to see,

Not to see any of it.

 

She's weighed down with bricks and empty words,

Dangling her latest friends around her neck like Mardi Gras beads

As if to make her problems no longer visible.

But I was one at one step ahead of the iron hooks they were casting.

 

And you were the bones they wanted,

Wired on a porcelain frame.

 

I need you to run,

to fly,

and I will superglue those angel wings to your back and beat them so hard that nothing is clearer than the pounding of your heart.

 

But,

she never listens to me anymore.…

And forgot to fasten her wings…

And gravity,

Never forgets.

 

So we will skip to the moments where we are not bad judgments and broken hearts.

We are Crayons and chocolate milk,

Swinging till our Velcro, strapped sneakers pierce holes in the cotton candy clouds.

 

And now I break you from that invisible chain around your neck.

And we will redefine the boundaries that have been laid down before us.

 

So when you crawl up into bed at night,

And the ghosts or angels are waiting behind the shadows of your room,

The black squiggly tingles will slither up your spine and gently drape over your eyelids like a satin scarf…

The plastic stars we glued will stare back down from the pale ceiling, watching the light switch, anxious, awaiting the darkness and their queue to glow.

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