Behind closed doors I am a different animal
I eat my food protectively and with great bites
I play dress-up and pretend
I am a typical only child used to a secret life
sometimes it is lonely and sad and often after
socializing I long to rid myself of the feeling of being
filled up with too many people and too many words
the reason I have few lines on my face is
I don’t speak for hours often gallivanting in my head
stories and themes and wonders
whilst outwardly impassive and calm.
When I was younger I loved to
wear fancy dress and make up stories and climb trees
when it became the time to give those things up
I did never find a suitable replacement
if I had my way I would dance and blow up balloons
eat cake and make love and little else
a hedonist with a conscience, one friend said
you care so much and then you wish you did not
people have always remarked upon how
well together I am, with my matching colors and my greese-proof make-up that doesn’t run when I scream
but it is absolutely a mask, clowns buy in bulk
one becoming a little threadbare as I
get out of practice and grow older
my hands resemble a milk maids and the times I have howled
show in the corners of my yawning mouth like apostrophes of regret
in the past I’d just have plaited
ribbons in my hair and worn a torn chemise
all the world would have said; Adorable!
But now, damn it, I want to be liked for who I am
not that miracle of long hair obscuring
layers and layers hiding, the girl beneath
who never did like how she looked
too masculine, too strong jawed, too high forehead
as I age I see the thin-lipped hydra smile of my dad more pronounced
vanity whispers; Botox and Rejuvaderm can solve that
yet I hesitate
something unbrushed and feral in my blood saying
don’t give up being wild and seeking the rheumatic lore
thinking in my mind of all my family, how
like short-lived butterflies they bloomed young and grew old fast
in things of skin and bone
but their spirits were always wild
like they continued to roam
and I love that
it’s the one thing about my legacy I am proud
when it is quiet and I am sorrowful and piteous
I think of my grandmother stomping in her big heavy boots
lines around her mouth from dragging on her fags
taking the dog for his seven mile walk
up into the heath we clambered
her giving me tips on avoiding a receding hairline (well coconut oil didn’t fix that)
whilst I longed to sneak off for a cigarette myself
we’re a nest of night tokers until we become unwell
or if there had been a lover, a little bit of slap and tickle
I was always unrestrained and apt to be naughty
she was exactly the same that I knew
we all possess a fierce loyalty to the idea of love
even if it disappoints
you might say
we’re a cracked family of romantics
ransoming reality for a second bite of cake
I smoke in my dreams
and I kiss you with closed eyes
I don’t want to be 34 or 73
even as we all shrivel and decrease
I long to find that diving pool again and
swim underwater long enough
when I emerge I am neither you
and neither me
i love this so much! it dances so magically as i read it…& as a feral creature myself, i can totally relate. ❤
LikeLike
Thank you so much!
LikeLiked by 1 person
A splendid insight into the plight of the only child
LikeLike
Have you cracked the comments problem?
LikeLike
You give me life.
LikeLike
One only child to another – Awesome!
LikeLike
Reblogged this on cabbagesandkings524 and commented:
TheFeatheredSleep brings her wild child to The Whisper And The Roar
LikeLike
le sigh…
I want to be you when I grow up. ❤
LikeLike
Le Sigh you are total brilliance girl I think you will never grow up you will grow everywhere like the universe xo
LikeLiked by 1 person
❤ And you're coming with!
LikeLike