[original fic] i left my heart on the back-porch swing, g
i left my heart on the back-porch swing
- original: poetic prose: free verse
- 4; depression
I left my heart on the back-porch swing
Next to sweet green tea
And grandpa's stories of the war.
Under blankets during summer nights
Heads pressed close together
Impossible to tell where I end and you begin.
The sun's a painter, a performing artist
A humid-Pollock battling the northern lights
For the title of most acquainted with
The rickety swing where we used to sit
Limbs curled and necks drowsy.
Sometimes I still feel your warmth;
A hand on my thigh, I can still count the creases in your fingertips.
Peppermint breath and orange-cream lips;
I haven't decided what I miss the most
You or me or us
And I don't remember, not sure I ever was
Me without you
Without your overbearing shadow that I stood in so gladly
Under the weight of everything you would become
I clung,
To lemonade stands and second best
To the slight in your smile;
Dogs that fit in the palm of your hand and grow
Too heavy to lift.
The steep slope we used to role down in borrowed bathing suits;
Firecrackers through the glass and you were my everything.
The outline of my heart is sketched
Underneath your collar bone but you can't feel it,
Don't remember it's there until foreign fingers
Trace it;
The outline of who I am.
Will it ever be colored in, erased, marked over?
Our fingers intertwined as we kick back,
Let the momentum sooth us.
Shift;
Your head in my lap under the awning.
The canvas is battling the rain, washing out its colors,
All its hard work hidden by dark clouds that bring so much peace
So much normality;
It's where we grew up
Where we grew apart
Where you begin to fade, with every stroke of my fingers through your hair.
You're vanishing, and I'm dimming;
Too many years spent in your shadow
I don't know how to meet my own
I don't know what it's like inside, in front of the fire
The rain muted by its crackles, cackles;
It seems like such a long walk now, from my house to yours
But I left my heart on your back-porch swing
(excuse me while I go and pick it up).
- original: poetic prose: free verse
- 4; depression
I left my heart on the back-porch swing
Next to sweet green tea
And grandpa's stories of the war.
Under blankets during summer nights
Heads pressed close together
Impossible to tell where I end and you begin.
The sun's a painter, a performing artist
A humid-Pollock battling the northern lights
For the title of most acquainted with
The rickety swing where we used to sit
Limbs curled and necks drowsy.
Sometimes I still feel your warmth;
A hand on my thigh, I can still count the creases in your fingertips.
Peppermint breath and orange-cream lips;
I haven't decided what I miss the most
You or me or us
And I don't remember, not sure I ever was
Me without you
Without your overbearing shadow that I stood in so gladly
Under the weight of everything you would become
I clung,
To lemonade stands and second best
To the slight in your smile;
Dogs that fit in the palm of your hand and grow
Too heavy to lift.
The steep slope we used to role down in borrowed bathing suits;
Firecrackers through the glass and you were my everything.
The outline of my heart is sketched
Underneath your collar bone but you can't feel it,
Don't remember it's there until foreign fingers
Trace it;
The outline of who I am.
Will it ever be colored in, erased, marked over?
Our fingers intertwined as we kick back,
Let the momentum sooth us.
Shift;
Your head in my lap under the awning.
The canvas is battling the rain, washing out its colors,
All its hard work hidden by dark clouds that bring so much peace
So much normality;
It's where we grew up
Where we grew apart
Where you begin to fade, with every stroke of my fingers through your hair.
You're vanishing, and I'm dimming;
Too many years spent in your shadow
I don't know how to meet my own
I don't know what it's like inside, in front of the fire
The rain muted by its crackles, cackles;
It seems like such a long walk now, from my house to yours
But I left my heart on your back-porch swing
(excuse me while I go and pick it up).