Porcelain Snow

I want to be the one that drives off

with a full heart. I want to be the one

that looks like a movie. Read me like

your favourite book. Highlight my best

parts and memorize my soul

as porcelain snow falls on my skin

and I stick out my tongue

like a five year old child.

You brushed off the snow

from the tips of my hair,

my heart turns into a photograph

my guts feel splattered

inverted nerves

that compelled me to give away

secrets.

No influence but yours

can ever make me do the things

you asked for. It felt like that time

you brought me to cafe Henri

and boasted about your hockey medals

soccer wins

and never let me talk. I nodded my head

thinking about white tiles

and candle scents

nothing to do with your high school achievements

but everything to do with

my defeat. Different shapes

need to never merge

in working-class neighbourhoods

listen up and I will tell you

about my parent’s struggle

and having no furniture.

Blah blah blah about your awards

I still take out my vinyl

to remember my secrets.

You talk too much

about yours.

 

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10 thoughts on “Porcelain Snow

  1. Every time I read you I feel like I’m sitting next to your table at that restaurant..and I can’t take my eyes off your conversation….the only difference here is I don’t have to be embarrassed for eavesdropping on your heart. ❀

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Some people seem to be so “happy” with themselves …. but then again not, because they need the approval of others for their “awards” in order to be happy… sad! Great poem, made me smile πŸ˜€

    Liked by 1 person

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