deepundergroundpoetry.com

Fifteen

 

(one… two…)

Her fingers thicken in haste,
slip in soft clinks back with rapid
breaths and swallowed tears.

(eight… nine…)

The wild-eyed mirror evades
her pleas, so she begs the tiles
for cool comfort. She flushes away

(twelve… thirteen…)

her hopes.  The welts on her arm throb,
wakening the ember-glow burn of memories.
Her heart murmurs with freshly cut lips.

(fourteen… fifteen…)

She winces against the swelling
majesty of purple, green and blue.
The medicine cabinet whispers to her.

(fifteen… fifteen… fifteen…)

The flip-top bottle holds the same
fifteen…
capsules, cotton choking the neck.

She sucks in little sips of rib-cracking
air. His medication remains untouched.








This is FICTION. Save the concern for those who live this daily.
Written by Atakti
Published | Edited 28th Nov 2013
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 13 reading list entries 3
comments 28 reads 1012
Commenting Preference: 
The author encourages honest critique.

Latest Forum Discussions
SPEAKEASY
Today 5:29pm by SweetKittyCat5
COMPETITIONS
Today 5:17pm by 13
SPEAKEASY
Today 3:27pm by Ahavati
SPEAKEASY
Today 2:11pm by ajay
COMPETITIONS
Today 1:11pm by Vision_of_insanity
SPEAKEASY
Today 11:25am by Ahavati