WE WERE YOUTH

 

i lay on the bed.

i am on my back. my arms are at my sides.

my head is on bare mattress.

my body hurts.

i glance at the ceiling and close my hands loosely. 

my brain is a stone against my skull.

 

i think.  i lay. 

the bed is tangled, the sheets are twisted,

it is uncomfortable and warm. 

i can sense the bodies that were here the night before. 

i inventory the smears of life around me.

i feel them on my skin.

i feel them in my hair. 

 

my brain is a stone. my eyelids are too loose.  my stomach is sunken.

 

i think. i lay. 

my lip is swollen.  i can feel it pink and rough.

my forehead is gone. my thighs are too cold.

 

i try to remember. i know there was someone here.

in the night; in the liquid. 

and i spoke. and i spoke.  and you spoke.

what did i say. 

about gender.

about your body. 

how you poisoned me and licked up my youth.

 

i think. i lay.  i inventory. 

my brain is a stone.

my memory is flashlights.

i lay on my bed.

Carley Von lives in Canada and is an architecture student.

Dance to Death, Issue VI

©2008 Sorrowland Press and all respective artists within.