r/OCPoetry•7 yr. ago

The Cashier Lady Asked Me How I Was Doing Today

Feedback Received!

I said "Fine.

But not the regular kind of fine.

The kind of fine that feels like an over-worn knitted sweater

meeting a stubborn splintered desk corner, unraveling wildly

against the tug of not doing enough, not saying enough, not trying enough, not listening enough, not being enough--

or the kind of fine that feels like two searing knives dipped in poison

playing tic-tac-toe on your chest

except no one ever wins or loses or cares or tries or listens

and everything hurts and nothing hurts and it's all fine--really fine.

The kind of fine that wakes you up at 3:09AM

smelling like thick smoke and burning wood

as it billows underneath your bedroom door

but you're on the second level of your stepdad's house and

you're too scared to jump so all there's left to do is panic

or cry or suffocate or open the window and yell for help

but no one is coming

so you attempt to calm yourself

by thinking of other things

if fine were a color

it would look like an electric orange sunset

you know, the ones that distract fine drivers and send fine ten-wheeled trucks off the sides of fine bridges."

[**Edit: ***These are the last two lines I removed. Leaving them here to clear up any confusion.*]

I can't remember what she said after that

or if I took my medication this morning.

Critiques

Posted Nov 21, 2018, 5:39 AM UTC · edited

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