By ZoE
Date: 18 June 2000
Letter To My Texas Sarah
Letter to Sarah: Pink dress in Texas
I always said they were wrong about you, because Sarah I have this fear of losing
you, of emptying you out with the empty bowl. Because Sarah, god knows I could never
say no to your fingertips like rain drops reviving summer in my dead veins. Sarah you are
gone away on my favorite day to your two pigtail, penguin babys, feathered and soft.
Sarah I split my yellowed skin, I split my rotten yellow hair, Sarah, my lips broke and you
are not here to fix me between soft hair and flesh that held sweet infants that tango in a
jungle of lillypads and tigerlily. Sarah, you make the abyess in me close. You drown me
in thoughts of you and blanket dreams of never when the baby’s grew fresh off mango
trees falling from the sky in wet kisses in the ways I see you falling. The ways I see you
and want to hold you in my arms, hiding in folds of you, gripping onto you, tugging your
feet so all those boys would run away. Dallas is your cowboy, cowgirl warm Southern
belle family where they know about you saying you have to get to Texas,because you
already know and god knows I’d go, bittersweet these plane rides to cities with
spectacular lights and cars chugging down snaking streets. I always get that feeling
landing in another city,because my parents used to run me off across the country by
myself. From above the darkness contrasting with the clouds helps blood flow easily
through old veins. I bet you can’t wait to drown in your Texas bed with two girls, hands
clasped between your toes. You’ll forget my face with nothing for me to lose but then
again no way for me to find you.
Back to the Heart-on-Sleeve Corner