#sspoetry

[saltgrave-prose-poetry]

It was a Curse, Huh?

I mocked a fortune teller once,

Mostly to fit in with the friends there.

The stupid “you’re life is in flux right now,

And an important decision lies ahead”

Made me spit venom.

We are constantly in flux and making decisions.

It’s called fucking breathing.

But then you made it impossible to ignore you.

You jinxed me.

I think so much of you now.

Even when I have pot and pills and shots,

I think about what I must look like to you.

It simply isn’t fair

That your world could melt

And I cannot save it.

(I cannot think of it as anyone else’s when you live here.)

Would you forgive my stupid mouth

If I spoke my ignorant,

Selfish,

Barren truth?

I don’t deserve your time,

Regardless,

So my lips are sealed.

How many summers have we spent together?

Not enough for me

To make you “off limits”

In my brain.

I ache to know you more.

I am unwritten in your wake -

Forgiven by my undoing.

I could start over, all over, if asked.

What a selfish fool it takes to assume you understand my flaws.

You are above them. Always have been.

[saltgrave-prose-poetry]

Technicolor Brain

There are rapturous moments

Of clarity in thought

Where I can taste and smell

And feel the images

Flashing behind my eyes.

Between my ears,

A perfect storm of sensational fantasy

Whorls itself together,

Engulfing my very soul

With an epiphany.

The film is crisp,

The projector whirs smoothly,

And the story plays out

In tremendous color accuracy

And high definition details.

The screen of my attention span

Is sometimes scorched

From the feature presentation.

More often than not,

However,

I run on a technicolor nervous system.

My ideas come through,

But they are recycled:

Usually borrowed scenery of past movies

And carefully spliced strips.

I pick the Pantone paints down

And mix them one scene at a time,

Coloring up what I need.

These reels flicker more.

They hold a certain magic to me:

The rough, honest idea,

Bold and imperfect and blatantly nostalgic...

Yes, these stories are my favorites.

Sometimes they are altogether original,

Though the newer plots

Are known to commandeer

Favorite lines, symbols, and even personalities

Of the graceful tried-and-true.

My mind stays in technicolor mode

Quite often.

At any given moment,

I am remembering and recoloring,

And creating a unique story all my own.

The blossoming film strips

Often end up scattered and tangled,

But I know my brain well;

I sort them out as needed.

(The crossing of stories

Is terribly intriguing sometimes,

However.)

- Shae Saltgrave

[daretobereal]

If you think you're playing me you're wrong. I'm the one playing you and you won't know it till I'm gone. S.S

[daretobereal]

"One day we come home and know words our parents never taught us. Our tears go from broken bones to broken hearts. When did growing up become so harsh?" S.S

[daretobereal]

"You turn to leave and I can guarantee my heart follows”

S.S