barnacle

sealed shut by you

decades ago,

my eyes stubbornly refuse to open

as sunlight pierces my realm.

release me,

i whisper.

one hundred years i’ve been

here,

surrounded by a stench more massive

than the entrails of a decaying blue whale.

parched lips drop blood

onto a slimy green floor.

release me,

i beg.

atrophied and blind,

i stretch broken hands outward

toward the warmth,

yearning to be loved

as a newborn is by her mother.

your laughter echoes to and fro,

bouncing off the walls of my

hidden prison.

release me,

i plead.

you giggle,

lapping at my sanity

as a kitten laps at milk in a warm kitchen.

the ocean crashes onto a sandy shore,

stealing grains of my mind

with each retraction,

replacing them with your own.

forcing me to accept a new reality as you

crush me down further and further,

denying me heaven.

so i sit.

cling to the slimy walls of my odoriferous cell

as a barnacle clings to a ship afloat upon an unforgiving sea.

lost, forever, yet drifting

doggedly toward hope.

as you lay breathing

with each new dawn

i awoke

hopeful

for a new start.

and yet there you lay

next to me

breathing.

a stranger in my bed

a stranger in my head

a stranger no longer

in my heart.

i packed your bags

sealed up your space

eons ago.

yet there you lay

next to me

breathing.

with every breath

i let you steal

another chance at

happy.

your words sharpened

as the days flew by

piercing my soul

as there you lay

next to me

breathing.

we flew round and round

you and i

each in our own world.

desperate for escape

i clawed at my confines

screamed for help

prayed for divine

intervention.

as you lay there

next to me

breathing.

i cried myself to sleep

wailed, writhed,

ached for a freedom

i knew existed

but could not reach.

as you lay there

next to me

breathing.

now,

i lie here,

breathing

fresh air

no longer sullied

by your breath,

your heart,

your words,

your despising ways.

i breathe.

because i am free.

imperfect

when staring through blurry glass

toward a wayward wood

hastily climbing up the distant hillside,

i glimpse

wildflowers desperately chasing

the trees

yet finding themselves

trapped behind tiny fences.

instead the wildflowers stare

at the glorious wood,

sprouting, reaching, and growing

in every direction

as they, the wildflowers,

wallow in their captive pen.

bright colors spring forth

as the wildflowers sway and strain,

longing for escape.

golden yellows, muted purples,

even a few indigo and pale pinks

peek through the leafy green

stems.

the wildflowers sigh

as they drench themselves in

the rays of a hellish sun.

waiting.

to be rescued,

to be broken free from

the ground which holds them captive

behind their fence.

the wildflowers wait

so very patiently

and

so exquisitely beautifully

for their turn to be imperfectly

perfect.