Tedious weeds
I'm a creative writing student...this is my creative writing
Friday 15 October 2010
Not quite Disney
CONCEPTUAL SMUDGE
Crystal
snowed in. Frozen nature
trapped outside
my bubble of artificial comfort.
You can
share my warmth
because without each other
we don’t mean
very much.
I didn’t take you
seriously before.
The night you laid my head
down, gently as
a Faberge.
You blamed yourself for me
being in a state.
It was my birthday,
We should have known better.
Piles of paper
strewn in our nest,
and December was firmly shut
out.
I want to be able to
remember but when I strain to think
what happened
I get a hangover and screaming cramps in
my eyes.
I know it was
important to you, You must have
been so gentle
because I hardly felt the pillow
pressed against
my cheek.
I think you were
already crying, Even then
I didn’t know why. But the radiator
hummed with...
I asked you what was wrong,
Pushing, a Faberge
rock.
Was I sitting up straight?
Did I look into your grey eyes? My eyes
didn’t work,
They swam around
in my head
but I remember the laughing from
downstairs,
Banging against the tension in our lungs,
heartbeats with the music.
I feel sorry for you, comprehending the time
that actually passed
between your gentle soothing
and my persistent pounding for answers.
You were crying now,
the moment you said it. I don’t
remember you saying the words but I
know that you did
because life changed.
No motorway covered the distance
between us.
You were the furthest away anyone
could possibly be.
And I slurred and I laughed
and I babbled and I snorted and I was the
troll that shat on the fairytale.
You remember what I said but you will
never tell me.
That filthy moment is trapped
in ice,
A stagnant brown tinge in the centre of
Crystal.
You won’t tell me what I said
but it let December in.
You went out and the cold came in.
You’d knocked on
my ribcage but I had passed out.
Comatose,
emotionless,
brittle as bark.
I lay awake like that, Waiting for you to
come back,
Waiting for me to come back,
Straining for those lost moments. It
might have been hours,
It might have been days,
It could have been my entire lifetime
Before your
frozen palms pushed on my
door.
I tried to say sorry, I was crying vodka
tears.
But there were no more words to say
And I think you fell
asleep.
Winter brought our
saddest,
most perfectly repugnant moment to us.
But mine is lost
and you won’t share yours.
Maybe it makes me happy
To know that you meant it.
And you won’t spoil it.
I can imagine my crystal moment and you
will keep
The cracked and tainted, Fractured and
chipped,
Splintered and cutting moment with you.
Maybe that’s how I know
That I love you too.
But I wish it had
snowed on my birthday
And we’d been trapped inside together.
I can’t take it back now
it’s been forged in the cold.
But if I could I’d make you a new crystal.
A sparking, twenty four carat treasure
That you could carry around and be
happy to share.
I wish we were snowed in together
And I could craft you the world.
Tuesday 23 March 2010
Ophelia
Blind feet stumble over slippery roots of willow trees
And pale pebble-toes tangle around the shoots and brambles
That are emerging from the depths to caress her ankles and welcome her to their palace.
She sings songs of love, and taints them with her heart-ache.
A daisy falls from her hair and embraces the glassy surface of the brook, floating and dancing.
How she wants to dance upon the mirror, dance among the flowers and the stones...
Her feet touch the glassy surface of the brook and they are kissed back by flints
And thorns, lurking underneath the masquerade of dancing petals.
Cruel currents tear away her garland headdress and roots grab her wrists.
So, singing her songs of love and heartbreak, the maiden concedes to the will of the waters-
Too tired of life to fight against this violent nature.
She obeys the pull of the tide, and bends her back to lie with the stones.
Unbearable for skin so smooth, to be caressed by fragmented flints,
Their cold points dig fiercely into her thigh, a shark with the taste of blood.
The teeth tear at her as her body contracts, and the dance becomes a sick embrace.
Eyes watch from the river bed and a rare stone will heave itself at her head,
Suddenly caught in a torrent of violence and fury, where it spits shards, cracking and splintering.
Somehow these stones know no time...they lie in the bed with her and erode together.
And when, by chance, the queen was spotted, such a sight she must have been.
Garments spread as though flying through her kingdom, and her garlands twined round her fingers.
Blood-red lips pulled into a sad smile from where she has kissed the stones.
Her hair glistens with green and gold, and beneath her lies her treasure – scattered petals
Lie upon shimmering diamonds, held safely in the heart of her rocks, glinting happily for their sovereign.
Now, like a stone, she is pulled from the water and crumbles against your fingers.