perfect places — Trevor Luciani

perfect places

Trevor Luciani

clenching the walkman, blistering guitar solos penetrated my ears. i hid, fidgeting in the corner hoping neighbors didn’t hear china breaking in the kitchen. tracing each unexplained beauty mark one by one, my eyes closed every time a scream not from the rickety headphones reached for my ear. eroding lime green paint chips bounced on to the floor hiding from slam shut doors. the posters on my wall smiled at me; my idols never failed me. a cold grilled cheese sandwich is set on the floor outside my room, it was my Mom. she heard my silent screams, knowing i hadn’t eaten all that day. i wouldn’t forget to bring my Mom with me when i leave.