Star 72

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: September 26, 2018

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Submitted: September 26, 2018



I exist in the light split by the plastic blinds

Behind a makeshift curtain, jagged stripes on the floor

The only visible part of me easily overlooked

How am I so striking and yet so easily ignored?

I exist in all the dewdrops you ruined

When you smacked a branch in your yard at dawn

While smoking your mother’s cigarettes

All the exploding droplets and the light that left them

Just a sensation on your hand in an instant

A stalactite’s slow growth stunted by your fingerprint

If you ever recall me and my invisible ink voice

You’ll have that buzzing in the back of your brain

That lets you know won’t remember again

A home full of uninvited guests

A sugar glass wall that no one will let me build

A pen you’ll remember you stole when you see it

The first few times you see it

And afterwards, you use as your own when you want

A scar you only see when you have a tan

Post-kiss of the spring break sun

That you don’t remember how you got

That you wouldn’t remember fondly

That remains, faint and jagged

Slowly leaving, slowly lost

© Copyright 2019 Josephine Paschall Bullis. All rights reserved.

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