Chandlier Jones Disappointment is Unbearable

CHANDLIER JONES

Disappointment is Unbearable

disappointment is unbearable

it is those eyes, personally, the golden hues of my grandmother’s eyes barely covered by her almost translucent lids, she’s tearing up, red from stress, the wrinkles creasing in her forehead like folded paper, her eyebrows are limping, not furrowed her lips are a fine line with all the words she could say tucked in her mouth.

when her lips do pry themselves open, she swallows her sentences like her favorite meal honeyed ham with mac n’ cheese and a cup of chilled frustration instead, a sweet sigh rushes out she didn’t care too much for dessert and the bumps on my arm rising like bread in the oven, she holds her elbows, arms crossed, her hands are tired but not relaxed, her boney fingers flex once, twice

and like a losing enemy, she raises her white flag, the pitter patters of her feet retreating, the groans from the floor as it’s squeaking my heart dances irregularly, off-beat and awkward but deep in my chest, like the major chords of a piano, and soon, I’m tearing up too