Read Poem: Crepe Paper Soul, by MB Elliott

Originally published on the Sad Girls Club lit page:

In solitude,
Loneliness arrived on time,
Whispering to my fears,
“It’s too late,
In this flesh encasement,
To try again.”
The problem with sadness?
She speaks,
In every language.
Remembering the details,
Of how I broke.
Pulled up high,
And fastened tight,
That brightly-colored,
crepe paper unicorn,
Cracked wide-open,
From the last blow.
Then the people ran to pick through,
The sweetness of my soul.
Buying Time
Loneliness whispers,
Erase the lines,
of my wrinkled brow.
Furrowed with time,
That pin-pricked shot,
Fixes everything.
The injections course,
Through my veins,
Preserve me;
As a living taxidermy,
Of what I used to be,
And ran through,
Long past my time.
On Becoming
Lines filled in;
I wandered through darkness,
Always needing,
To fill this old soul.
And even when the unicorn,
Turned to discarded refuse–
And I wasn’t the pretty paper,
Or…