Blanket Fort.

Disclaimer: This was written about a friend. The person in this story is not me.

When I was six, 

I strung blankets over chairs 

to create my new blanket fort. 

I crawled inside, 

and watched with small iridescent eyes

my stuffed animals play. 

I listened to mommy kiss daddy

and daddy say “I love you.” 

I painted hearts on my fingernails 

and stars on my toes. 

I found my happiness in the serenity 

that was my blanket fort. 

When I was sixteen,

I strung blankets over chairs

to create my new blanket fort. 

I crawled inside, 

and watched with dark, lonely eyes

crimson drip onto the carpet. 

I listened to mommy hit daddy,

and my mom’s favorite vase shatter

on the floor. 

I painted crosses on my fingers, 

and cusses on my toes. 

The only happiness I was left with was the 

serenity of my blanket fort. 

Reviews

[Patrick Henry]

Beautiful!! ...and weren't they bulletproof? Mine kept out the stresses of the day, seemed to be able to be relocated at a moment' notice, and EVERYONE had their own blueprint when you needed ideas!! lol Why have I never written about my blanket fort? If I can find a picture of my blanket fort, can I share it with you on here?! Adorable poem and the depth you went to explaining and giving perspective on our comforts that afford for seclusion and connection to what keeps us safe without explanation.... beautiful!! xoxo -Your Mark

[Zap-the-awesome]

Nice. That was simple, but deep and dark. Kinda made me a little less happy. :/ it's great work though!

[Trigorin]

Not bad. I think the dichotomy in this is probably the strongest point, as a lot of your imagery is a little cliche and overdone. I think you could either move towards simplifying things or work on coming up with some really fresh and new lines, either one would work.