how unfortunate, for i, to be envious
of such a simple little thing.
bloom
[TW: physical/general abuse and body horror]
bruises bloom like flowers do
on skin so paper thin
your love is penned in rose-red ink
upon my parchment thin
blood-drops run like rain-drops run
down roofs and bodies still
i am a cloud that spills out blood
over flow’ry sun-starved hills
flowers bloom like bruises do
across our garden so divine
so plant your roses in my flesh
and feed this selfish lie
silence
The after is filled
with silence
Silence as cold as glass.
I run my fingers along
its jagged edges
and feel
its shards
prick my skin.
The after is filled
with silence
Yesterday seeps through
to today
Like blood
on cloth.
There are still words unsaid
I long to rip
them from their throats.
Because the morning after their fight is always silent
with sharp glares and
It is childish to wish that this would end
I am too old for such thoughts.
Mother asks me what I’d want for breakfast;
Father talks and talks
Yet they do not look at each other:
still, silence.
And I wonder if they know that all their falsities
will do nothing to bury the corpse of their marriage
I wonder if they know that seventeen years
is enough to no longer know a person.
Because father complains that mother is too proud
but she apologises to me.
And mother has decided that father no longer cares
but he still holds onto every memory.
And I wonder if they know that they are the reason
that I am hesitant to tie myself to another
I wonder if they know that their yelling matches
no longer affect me and my brother.
what a leaf knows
wonder, do you not, what a leaf knows
if a leaf knows not but itself.
it lives, it shakes, it falls and it dies
and does little of anything else.
wonder, do you not, what a leaf thinks
of the name forced upon itself.
it exists and dies and exists and exists
and does not think at all.
how unfortunate, for i, to be envious
of such a simple little thing.
wonder, do i not, if the leaves realise
what a tumultuous state they bring.
the name i was given unwillingly
the things i will never understand
they laugh in my ear and mock me
while a leaf floats idly by.
how fortunate, then, for it to exist
as it has for all this time
while i must exist as something else;
while i must exist as i.
© Sereen Chen
Reene (she/they/xe) has been as avid reader and writer from a young age, although there are periods of times where both were difficult. They enjoy literature that ranges from a dissection of the intricacies of the human condition, to silly romance stories. Currently, they are seventeen and in college.
Share the love and wonder by making sure to respect the copyrights! Everything we publish belongs to the authors. You can share their texts via the official link. If you quote them, please credit them. If you wish to republish their work, you can always write to us and we will put you in direct contact with them. Supporting creativity starts with respecting those who create, so we thank you in advance for doing your part!
The Amazine Community 