I Forgot my coffee And now its cold
A collection of memories
Charlie, don't you remember the summer we sat on the roof drinking lemonade
(Emergence)
We let her drive the boat during the warmest weekend of summer. It was the same summer our uncle hit a deer with his car late at night while driving back from getting us ice cream at the gas station.
Everyone in town was lying on lawn chairs It was the longest day of the year and all the shops were closed.
It's tradition to eat our ice cream at the elementary school park
Ice cream dripping down the cone as the sun dips below the horizon.
My Grandpa taught me how to play the piano in the year '95. The bus would drop me off at his house every Wednesday. The neighbor's dog would bark at me every time I walked up the front steps. I never learned how to place my hands correctly on the keys. I could never keep them in one place. When school ended and summer began, my mom would drop me off at my Grandpa's everyday on her way to work. We didn't play much piano then. My Grandpa would sit in front of the t.v. with an iced tea while I sat on the kitchen floor and drew in my Disney princess coloring book. I could never draw all day in one place.
She knew the colors of the sun could be found in the paint store
Painting portraits of summer's heirlooms to be hung in the sky.
Its hard to imagine my older sister once being as young as me
But she now lives at college and barely calls home on Sundays.
The Rain storms in spring are perfect for tea on the patio. For sad music to match the gloomy tone the weather sets. For a swaddle of blankets underneath the window panes. For a nap curled up in the chair that wraps around you. These were all my remedies for the spring after last, the spring that she left her life with us to live among the stars.
It holds too many memories that the store itself overflows. A row of candy where we examine each bar to pick the perfect one to match the day. The dairy isle where ice cream is kept for late night drives. The fish bait tubs where we double dog dare each other to catch one. The gas pump where my mom fills the gas can for the boat.
(Perpetual Regimen)
a spring evocation
At least the memories that I conjured were reminents of a place called home.
I was 15 when I went to my first wedding. It was an outdoor wedding. The groom was my mother's cousin. We sat in the sun waiting for the bride to walk down the isle. She never walked down that isle and my mother's cousin didn't get married that day.
Take to the trend sweeping inner city habitants. An abandoned mill sits down on the end of my block. The minors go at night to Howl at the moon. They gather on the fourth floor Seen from my bedroom window
On this couch I held you. Next to the fire I held you. While the music played on I held you. The night slowly blurred and still I held you.
On this couch you held me Next to the fire you held me. While the music played on you held me. The night slowly blurred and still you held me.
Her embrace was as warm as the sun on my skin A light driving in the simple dark. The recognition of a simple glance can make miracles
He used to hide things in weird places. Marbles in the Milk Jug, Action Figures in Flower Pots, Little Brother don't grow up. He tries to hide things in weird places Empty Bottles in the Sock Drawer, Lighters in Glove Compartments. Little Brothers do grow up.
In tenth grade I fell in love with a girl, She was beautiful. Lips of blush satin and freckles splattered like paint. I will never forget her face when I told her I fell. I fell for her like the leaves in autumn after a fruitful summer haze. We only pass along the sidewalks. The cracks in the pavement growing from the sorrow I burrow once my body refused to hold anymore
A group of seniors at my high school smoke cigarettes everyday before class. I started dating a boy from the group and cigarette smoke has since smelt like home.
Walks in a museum on a hot summer day. Not another human in sight. Everyone outside. Making it a perfect get away. An escape from everything human.
(Inexorable Illation)
I Burn I Pine I Perish To pine is to burn my bridges made from glass all laced with images of you. Wrapped in plastic suffocation to numb the voices. Until the return of lavish times, I remain waiting for you.
Flying Pixies Mourning Mushrooms A Boy growing up too fast
Fairy summons in the forest Tea parties in the garden Desistence of childhood.
We grew up in the city grew apart from our youth Growing and growing further from truth.
To venture beyond our visible plane We wander out into the wild Our lives have changed forever Never to be glanced upon again.
Their lips tell their stories Their pain. Their love. Their glory. Truth woven into sound scape Truth even when not auditory.
She was obsessed with death. Until one day her addiction consumed her name and body. Nobody recognized the face of a girl floating down the river that morning.
By Emily Abel