Treasure Island

Alyssa Taylor


Beautiful


When I wake in the morning
and find myself buried in crumpled unsent-letters,
of broken pencils, ink smears, and run-down erasers,
when I wake in the morning
and find myself buried on the floor,
I know it will never be enough.

When I stand beside my window
and listen to the raindrops patter and tap against my roof
and when I lean out into the darkness
and let the raindrops penetrate my skin,
even if I recognize the sweet scent of rain
I am still numb.

When I am passing through crowded cities,
tripping and falling across the concrete,
when I am chained to the sidewalk with my regrets
and people are walking around me, stepping over me,
I plan to disappear,
and slip through the links of these chains that bear my flaws.

But some days when I am dreaming,
even while I am covered with my letters,
while the rain is washing me,
while my chains are imprisoning me,
I close my eyes
and feel sunlight embrace my aches and I,
and take me back to days, weeks, years ago,
it is then that I think of you,
and I feel beautiful.

Submitted: Thursday, August 02, 2007
Edited: Saturday, March 26, 2011
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