I’m being erased
Softly rubbed out, a
Forgotten mistake
Stretched tight and even, taut
Folded up and packed away
Every breath exhaled; wasted
I’m jaded.
Skin falls heavy from my brow
Putting on new clothes, hoping.
Garments will change me.
Wishful chameleon.
A living timepiece
Marked by miracle creams.
Gently, almost unwillingly becoming
The perfect me for you.
A dainty struggle for the unattained.
Black and white memories
Of old ambitions
Dark dreams.
Mercury taste I watch
My life (its waste) enfold around yours.
My body, an old friend that refuses to listen.
To pull back, sliding, slipping into
A new life
Its downward pull, sucking back.
I grab sleep like I’m starved
Years of blank black nights.
An acquaintance still out of reach.
The calendar mocks and moves on
Whilst I’m leaving
Only shadows of me.
Grey parts of me
Flit over walls
Sigh on pillows
And crawl childlike under the covers.
Hiding in fear of losing.
In the chance I’ve lost
Who I’ve yet to meet.

Brooke Olive