deepundergroundpoetry.com
Silver spoons
When I was a little girl I used to like the feeling of being the coldest person in the room,
In hopes that I could listen to the cool whooshing metallic clinking of everyone else's bones.
I used to like the feeling of heavy limbs and scratchy soft wool sweaters, because they could keep me so warm while everyone else was being kissed up and down by the chill in the room.
My limbs are much older now, and they clink like big empty silver clunky spoons,
But I don't like the feeling of being the coldest anymore, because I am always cold.
I am tired of being cold, tired of the clunk and thunks of my bones, tired of how my spine always holds her ground, even when I wish so badly she would fall into the nothingness below us.
When I was a little girl I used to like the feeling of being the coldest one in the room,
In hopes that I could listen to the heavy metallic clunking of everyone else's bones,
I used to like the feeling of heavy limbs and scratchy soft wool sweaters, because I could not stand to have the chill in the room run his lips up and down my back.
I am much older now, and even on the warmest days; I cannot let myself let the coolness of him in.
Because all I ever am is cold, doomed to be stuck here listening to the clinking and clunking of my silver metallic spoon bones.
And even now, they are still embracing each other.
Clink, Clunk.
Clink,
Clunk.
In hopes that I could listen to the cool whooshing metallic clinking of everyone else's bones.
I used to like the feeling of heavy limbs and scratchy soft wool sweaters, because they could keep me so warm while everyone else was being kissed up and down by the chill in the room.
My limbs are much older now, and they clink like big empty silver clunky spoons,
But I don't like the feeling of being the coldest anymore, because I am always cold.
I am tired of being cold, tired of the clunk and thunks of my bones, tired of how my spine always holds her ground, even when I wish so badly she would fall into the nothingness below us.
When I was a little girl I used to like the feeling of being the coldest one in the room,
In hopes that I could listen to the heavy metallic clunking of everyone else's bones,
I used to like the feeling of heavy limbs and scratchy soft wool sweaters, because I could not stand to have the chill in the room run his lips up and down my back.
I am much older now, and even on the warmest days; I cannot let myself let the coolness of him in.
Because all I ever am is cold, doomed to be stuck here listening to the clinking and clunking of my silver metallic spoon bones.
And even now, they are still embracing each other.
Clink, Clunk.
Clink,
Clunk.
Published 23rd Oct 2021
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