I Will Not Be Fictional

I am skin,
bones, and
two toned cheeks.
I reek of issues, baggage and
distance.

Walk a mile –
can’t find me.  No mile
could. “While
you are looking, could you
grab me a latte? Double shots?
Thanks!”

I found
a story, a long time ago. It carried on and on and on. Redundant. It nearly drove me insane! Then, one day, the story changed! I think I was in shock. So, I walked miles and miles away.
The story couldn’t find me and I didn’t want it to. I have no use for stories; real or imagined!!

A boy came along and he
started writing, sketching words and illustrations in a binder.
He had longing in his eyes as he
sat under a hot, burning lamp. But, the
poor fool kept on writing.

He told me what he imagined
and hoped he could create.
Well…I listened and I smiled and
approved of his story. But he had the damn characters all wrong!!

I told him of my loathe for stories and how I may
regurgetate my lunch if he tried to write me in it.
He sulked, momentarily, but he went on his way. I suppose he writes in a new character
to take my place.
All the better for me.

I am skin,
bones, and it might be because of all the stories
that make me regurgetate my lunch.

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4 thoughts on “I Will Not Be Fictional

  1. I really enjoyed this poem. I am particularly fond of the cadence and structure. I like how it begins with small, meek lines, then swells, and then decrescendos into a powerful, conclusive statement which is reflexive of the opening line. I want to read more!

  2. i love the imagery on this one. have you heard of Alice Walker’s poem ‘Never Offer Your Heart to Someone Who Eats Hearts’? for some reason your writing reminds me of that poem

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