b***h.

I smoke my cigarette out the window

I read sylvia pla†h but can't translate her

Im lost as I have always been only now my loss seaks to voice itself like the cruel wind tha† shatters my bones

How dare you condemn me, how dare you interfere with my nonsensical overwhelming fear

Come in dear child, if you may, but I will think only of keeping you away from the open window

My secret portal

To enlightenment

My father hears the little pussycat’s whimpers dawning at my door, he feels the cold wind creeping beneath my crevice and steals you away

But he feels only the cold in these moments, and never my frigid interpretation of it

The man will disappear behind who I cannot see,

And I will disappear as well.

Tonight perhaps I will escape this world

Though I doubt it. My heart breaks at the thought.

I take another drink and toast to the thought of you

My imagined friend come to visit from my childhood tomb

My face is pale as my heart, intimidated by my palour I hope to parlor you

Where is my lighter?

That I might light this cigarette, that I might ignite this portal, that I might forget this place and reminisce in silence, that I might ignite these lungs, that I might shroud them also- in the blackest night I might not upon meeting, surrender to. May the darkness take me, I pray, so that I might have reason to fight.

Dog barks outside. I dig through the trash. I look desperately for a light

The matches are found beneath days of bottles. I light my cigarette upon finding the lighter hiding behind the curtains. b***h.

Reviews

[Unspoken poet]

This is so good, I really like this, it was kind of emotional. Very nicely written

[Rye]

Wow, I really like the emotions in this write. it's deep and emotional

[Pierce Bryant]

I feel like I have been here my whole life, looking at myself and the horrors that surround. And when the hopelessness grows I decide my meaningless relief and pursue it relentlessly.
Flawlessly relatable.

[Annette Pisano-Higley]

Your poem is amazing Lucia. Wrathful, painful, mournful, desperate, reminiscent. Raw language and noir, spiraling imagery. It is a dark staircase looking down and it ends in a single harsh word-“b***h”. More spat out than written, I feel the pain, suffocation and loss you convey so starkly and intimately. It is a condemnation of whom? Self? Plath would be proud of your poem. Brava.