burn the polaroids you took this summer with the
first lighter you ever bought, back when you were twelve
and needed to feel something that wasn't packaged, artificial
like every emotion you carefully collected over the past three months
swimming in the rain, singing in the stairwell, writing in the grass
a teenager's dream, broken by parents and mended by hopeless love
you'll never see them again, you damn well know it, so
burn the polaroids you took this summer and watch
their paper lips burn to ash, even though they turned your skin to fire
tiny marks down your neck, concealed with your mother's foundation
pretending to be mad at the mahogany bruises in places no one
knows about except them, but you weren't the only one receiving them
you knew this wouldn't last forever; now watch your heart burn as you
burn the polaroids you took this summer because
they always swore there wasn't another, and you desperate fool,
you re-opened your heart for a three-month-long whirlwind of
love entrapped by a spider web, invisible and impossible to get out of
why did you risk everything again for a false sense of security
you only got hurt in the end, but you know what you have to do
pick yourself up off the ground, stitch your heart up, don't cover your scrapes
fuck makeup or oversized clothes; let the world see your hurt
let the world see the way you cope with pain, and let them
respect you for it. when you see them on the first day of fall
ignore them and leave the ashes in their locker from the
polaroids you burned this summer.
Posted in response to the challenge Fall: Writing.
Comments
Log in or register to post comments.