Mol - Hello Poetry

Mol Nov 2018

people come into your life and grow on you like wild flowers.
sometimes they grow upon your skin, present but not deep,
others will grow so so so far down, their roots will rupture your skin and wrap themselves around your brittle bones.
eventually growing through the vena cava of your heart, reaching deep inside the vital chambers.

and these people, no matter how hard you may try,
you cannot rid them from your heart, they will always be there, growing deep inside of it,
feeding off the oxygen in your blood. even their flowers and foliage may wither with time but their roots will always exist, the blood from your heart running through them.

you will never cease to love these people,
for to pull out the roots of these flowers would rip your entire heart out of your chest,
and though that might hurt less than the roots these people may leave,
the only possible result is death.

Mol Nov 2018

ash tray

when my father smoked,
i was a child.
terrified by every inhale.
the thought of his tar riddened lungs was unbearable.
but he was a lost cause,
long lost to the tar stained tobacco on a stick.
I would clutch my teddy in the back seat of the car,
fearful that my lungs may ingest such vile and villainous fumes.

when I smoked I was a teen,
dragging on the stick I once feared so much.
inhaling and exhaling as if my life depended on it.
I recalled the fear of a child's eyes, myself.
so afraid of death and toxicity
but now, seventeen,
I had long forgotten my childhood wish to stay alive,
to grow up
because I had.
and while doing so had learned that life is bleak.
my tar stained lungs don't horrify me like my father's did,
they push me further,
smoking faster and harder until I may become a small pile of grey and cremated ash kept carefully within a decorated vase upon a mantle piece,
an ash tray of sorts.

#poem #poetry #smoke #cigarette #childhood #growing #up

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