Love is a shadow.
Sylvia Plath told me this the other day.
Her voice barely a whisper,
Cold hands intertwined
As I close my eyes,
I can smell the carbon monoxide,
My tongue finding it bittersweet.
For a moment, time is silent.
As I watch Ted Hughes fall from London Bridge.
I think he actually burned that bridge down
because he was writing a note to his paramour.
Guess you could say it was pretty lit.
I’m standing in my great grandmother’s kitchen.
Most people said she was away with the fairies.
The common words of society and
it’s ignorance towards a suffering heart.
I could see the broken mind cloaked behind a bright smile.
Great grandma slowly soars out of reach
Leaving poor, little James scrambling to pick up
any remaining pieces of her.
I will continue moving forward, but never forgetting.
Even as the brisk sunlight brings me back to reality.
La vie est belle.
There is so much beauty in life, but many lives are not beautiful.
Flower petals dancing in the wind,
Leaving me carbon monoxide in their wake.
About the Creator
Jamie Ripperda
I'm a struggling college student who loves to write. I'm really just trying to get experience.
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