Status: something short to keep creative

Poison Oak


I look at her, the girl with no parents with long blonde hair with hollowed-out cheeks with shaking fingers with the most beautiful blue eyes, and I wonder. I wonder what I would ever do without her because lately a far off look had taken over her eyes, the eyes I love so much. Her slouching shoulder blade slides away as my desperate fingertips reach out to touch at her skin, her eyes tilted downward and lips closed up tight. I wonder what I've done wrong, what I can do to make it better, what I can do to make her love me again. Finally one morning when the sun has just risen up, over a bowl of soggy cheerios drenched in what I am sure is expired milk, I open up my mouth to ask her what, why, who, how? Those blue eyes catch mine for a moment before wavering, filling up with liquid, echoing all of the words she'll never say to me.

"Nothing," Her voice cracks. " don't want to know about me, I'm no good for you. I'm just not."