• Megg Kelly

Woman Still a Girl

Updated: Apr 3

I press my face to the glass, the oval cut to see the sky, to see what lays below. The world is deceptive in a flat appearance, trickery at its finest.

I press my face to the glass, searching the dotted lights in the night. Scanning for life, or a notion of a living thing, I’m not sure.

My forehead rests against this matter that doesn’t make sense to most minds, to my mind. Its existence unique even if it is everywhere.

I close my eyes against its formation.

The night still pierces my mind.

Open your eyes.

Said no one but the dark.

Look up.

Said the desperate part of my soul.

The glass wants to know what I am looking for,

eyes riddled red hungry to be free of guilt,

to be free of myself.

The stars look different up here. The thing that holds our feet couldn’t possibly conjure the same wonder.

Will they speak to me?

Can they predict my ending? My awakening?

The moment my bite of the tongue will finally cut through to the bottom of it all. I’m a shadow in a blackout, sumptuous and insidious.

Skin still meeting the modest glass window, warming its surface, combating the coolness that takes hold of it from the outside, I cling to my whispers of a hunt.

A flutter of weakness flits through my lashes, gathering a dampness. Memories collect in a reel on repeat, its film upsetting itself over and over till I’m begging time to let me numb myself.

Take me there, let me sink my claws into a delicious nothingness.

Eyes smeared black, constellations point their handle down, cup tipped and ready at the spill.

Is this what you’ve been searching for? Through those eyes that discard their closing. Asks the glass, weary of my game.

Spill out. Tip yourself over.

Let the burden and shame and hate and sorrow flow in a sharp capsizing.

Maybe this is what I wanted, no, needed, to accompany.

A night dotted with humanity that aches and throbs in a foul breaking.

A soft dusk skylight opens itself to a woman still a girl, barreling through the night, parting the clouds, reaching for a resurrection, seeking to grasp the courage she needs to reverse a cold heart.

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