blue moon

every time a bell rings a person higher than cloud 9 checks themselves for wings.

there is something prettier than you.  you found it when you came out of the

womb, and no doubt, it pissed you off---yes---it probably sent you reeling.

when you began to grow they let you know that unlike the snow that might

melt &  wash away only to come back another day this ugliness that was

you would stay there forever.

 

                      your mother was the one who told you

firstly that you were not ugly & that you had something to give the world. 

certainly, it was your father who followed & made you understand that

beauty in the eye of the beholder had nothing to do with the beholden & you

understood.  you hugged your father & you gained an immense sense of

strength as the conversation ebbed.

 

lightening struck on that same evening & in doing so, you looked up in the

sky & there was a blue moon---only with that blue moon, which shone down

upon your deep brown eyes, did you feel that something special might include

only you---there, you found yourself, on a mission?  is that ok to say?  was

it you & you alone that found this mission important?  or was it simply

that in needing to feel important, you created this mission?

 

in italicized words you began to speak the rumblings of a teenager in heat---

understanding that intelligence will only get you so far, you began to look for

other ways of exploiting yourself loudly, while holding within that same

strength which your parents swore to you that you had.  yes, it was known to

all that you were a w***e who still had preserved your proverbial “soul.”

 

                     mommy dearest died as quickly as poppy,

& you soon found yourself mentally alone.  with no one to trust any longer,

you probably started to try & redefine, or quite possibly even erase the word

“trust” from your vocabulary. 

 

you fell into the arms of many a “lover,” or was it that you sought the lover

whom you felt might have the strongest arms?  arms that might hold you tight

& protect you from all else---arms that would save you from the world outside

yourself.  still, something was missing.

 

you were no longer on the playground.  no one was watching you to keep track

of your whereabouts, and quite frankly, this frightened you.  even those strong

arms which you had found, which seemed to make things seem easier during

those evening hours, they did nothing for you during the day.  during the day,

during those hours of light, it was only you---only you & your fear of being

alone, without anyone to “trust.” you still held on to that word & you still

pretended that it meant something.

 

                    but what do you call it when your heart

arranges a coup on your mind?  what happens when your concept of this

forgotten word, this “trust,” suddenly hops over your emotional walls?  those

that you have now spent years & years building up still will not hold out the

old habits.  these walls will not protect you from yourself, and all that you

have done to distract you, now shows up on your doorstep, ready to do

anything but satisfy---ready to downright disappoint & spit on your very image.

oh how ugly you are again.  you feel it, it writhes within you, and your

significant other is away in the salt mines.  

 

thinking that what happened before, when you looked up at that beautiful blue

moon, will happen again, you cast your eyes upward into the night sky.  since

this time around there is nothing, you hurl yourself off the bridge in question. 

there were no angels.  clarence never showed.