Some days
You tasted like Chocolate--
And I sunk into your sweet laughter,
Coated in sunlight and serendipity,
Cart-wheeling infinities around the corners of your smile.
Enveloped and protected in your glittering heart,
I clung to it, because I told myself it meant everything.
We painted constellations across our desert skies,
Weaving a dustland fairytale out of loose strings
You picked from our skin,
Wondering if heaven was not truly a place,
But rather a moment.
A quick, sputtering breath of time,
Where you and I find ourselves together,
Arm-in-arm at the crossroads of a life
Whose whole was far more magnificent than its parts.
And you made me feel
Alive.
Some days
You tasted like Cigarettes--
You swelled in my lungs,
Crippling and toxic, suffocating me with the smoke of your words.
Salty tears became relief from your blinding selfishness,
Choking on “After all I’ve done for you.”
Your radiating self-righteousness broke my bones
And your forked-tongue poetry tied my hands.
But I wrapped my eyes in naïveté,
And stumbled helplessly back into your arms.
You became a bitter place of refuge,
My atomic drug for happiness.
I let myself believe that my place
Was at your side
On the warfront,
Ready to take the bullet for you.
Author Bio:
Gwynn Marie Worbington began writing from a very young age, her greatest editors and proofreaders being her younger sister, her mother, and her dog, Mattie. She finds stories to tell from the world around her, and often draws from her own experiences growing up on a dead end, dirt road in the backwoods of Texas, where cousins and aunts and uncles made up the majority of the neighborhood. Her writing is heavily inspired by her personal struggles with severe depression and anxiety, and has acted as a guide in her learning to understand and cope with the tools she has been given to live a fulfilling life. Gwynn is currently finishing her third semester of college, and when she is not writing, she finds herself on the stage, performing at the local theatre.
You tasted like Chocolate--
And I sunk into your sweet laughter,
Coated in sunlight and serendipity,
Cart-wheeling infinities around the corners of your smile.
Enveloped and protected in your glittering heart,
I clung to it, because I told myself it meant everything.
We painted constellations across our desert skies,
Weaving a dustland fairytale out of loose strings
You picked from our skin,
Wondering if heaven was not truly a place,
But rather a moment.
A quick, sputtering breath of time,
Where you and I find ourselves together,
Arm-in-arm at the crossroads of a life
Whose whole was far more magnificent than its parts.
And you made me feel
Alive.
Some days
You tasted like Cigarettes--
You swelled in my lungs,
Crippling and toxic, suffocating me with the smoke of your words.
Salty tears became relief from your blinding selfishness,
Choking on “After all I’ve done for you.”
Your radiating self-righteousness broke my bones
And your forked-tongue poetry tied my hands.
But I wrapped my eyes in naïveté,
And stumbled helplessly back into your arms.
You became a bitter place of refuge,
My atomic drug for happiness.
I let myself believe that my place
Was at your side
On the warfront,
Ready to take the bullet for you.
Author Bio:
Gwynn Marie Worbington began writing from a very young age, her greatest editors and proofreaders being her younger sister, her mother, and her dog, Mattie. She finds stories to tell from the world around her, and often draws from her own experiences growing up on a dead end, dirt road in the backwoods of Texas, where cousins and aunts and uncles made up the majority of the neighborhood. Her writing is heavily inspired by her personal struggles with severe depression and anxiety, and has acted as a guide in her learning to understand and cope with the tools she has been given to live a fulfilling life. Gwynn is currently finishing her third semester of college, and when she is not writing, she finds herself on the stage, performing at the local theatre.
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