Guest Writer - Courtney How
puphow@yahoo.com

 

 

Words by Courtney How

Quiet Rage

A moment ago I was in a rage
A quiet rage
The kind when you are alone and don’t have the energy
To fight yourself with screams, self-inflicted hair pulling
Head banging, knocking the shit –off- your- self- type of rage
Even though you want to.

Instead you just sit quietly in an old wooden kitchen chair
And listen to your own breathing
Hands wrapped around your white coffee mug with the broken handle
Hoping the warmth permeating from the inside to the outside of the mug
Will move through your hands, up to your head to your heart
Through all the chilly parts.

Then you called and I am suddenly less foolish
Thankful for your crumbs of kindness
Probably originated from your own sense of guilt.
But I don’t care about that. I needed to hear your stupid excuses.
I was stood up.
And you were the one who had suggested coffee.
A friend I should forgive
But that term hangs too loosely on you.
You live to be admired. NO!
You will never notice a bruise on me.

Now you are coming whether I want you to or not
To show me that you are not so lousy after all.
Just to drop off a little something you had picked up for me
Before you stood me up.
Wouldn’t want me to look at it as a gift of guilt, would you?
But I’m alone these days
Even amongst a crowd
So when you arrive, my joy of knowing someone has thought of me
Will forgive you,
As it will also restore myself back to me
For a little while at least.

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My lover loves me differently now.
Gone are the honeymoon days
Replaced by predictability
Too much work
Bills to pay
Not enough love
A change of focus
From me to us
Back to herself
Like before I knew her.
Is this what is meant by coming full circle?

I lie in bed
Wanting to switch off my mind
To hush silent screams wanting to erupt.
My mind runs rampant in its pathetic playground.
Sliding down the slide of shame
Landing in a pit of guilt
Where I make sandcastles for my love
With a kiss on the cheek, a stroke along her hand, maybe dinner out,
In hopes that she will forgive
How intolerable I have become.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Let my body be your blanket…
Wrap myself around you
Beneath flickering flames
Illuminating hues of red
Along the bedspread and curtains.

Resting around you
I feel the heat from our bodies having merged.
My ear catches your heartbeat
Beating to the rhythm of Etta James
Sounding softly on the stereo.
Shadows from the candlelight dance lightly
Over your face and creamy shoulders.
My hand runs along your hot cheeks
And I know that they are marked crimson,
Though dancing shadows move over them.
In the dimness of this cold wintry night,
I am wistfully reminded
Of our first summer of love
When passion exploded between us
Leaving us unable not to touch.

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His hand in mine
Silky smooth
Fleshy against my flesh.
Warm and puffy.

He lies in bed
As I sit next to him,
My body sinks deep
Into the golden lazy-boy chair.
My legs are still,
The sound of sticky flesh released against vinyl disturbed him
In the past.

The parquet table
Stands on its black worn wheels
A few feet from his bed.
It hasn’t seen a food tray
For three days,
Only a plastic pitcher covered in water beads,
A box of tissues,
And a translucent plastic cup – filled half-way
With water.

I look at his face
But mostly at his stomach,
Watching his bloated belly
Rise and fall,
Up and down
Slowly.

Sometimes my eyes seek color.
I sneak a peak at the parade
Of little trolls on the window-sill.
Small plastic figures
With distorted bug-eyed faces
Below a jungle
Of blue, green, yellow, orange hair.

My eyes fall back on him.
A yellow tinge shines through
His unshaven skin.
His slightly frizzy roots of hair
Unwind into silky, greasy strings
Lying just below his neck.
Purple rings beneath his eyes.
I will not cry.

 

Courtney How
puphow@yahoo.com