Last Of The Trick Or Treats

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Little slim acne face

You know you’ve been jabbed at

Your laugh the littlest

A small-like snicker

Bedrooms are for hiding

No need to involve yourself

In overtime with the idiots…just

Dig into that last Halloween candy bag

Your grandmother bought you

For Christmas

And pull out the best Snickers you’ve got

You can see there’s no more

Monkey bars for you

Even though you will remember

The bark dust on the playground

Gets changed every other year

Sometimes it’s the big chunks

Other times, little

Still the slivers feel the same

You cling to the bars now, but

You want to lose your grip

On that coldest day of spring

When the metal stings your hands

Beginning a taste for chocolate

To soothe the curve of your hip

That bends the playground

Into lead memories full of twists

Will your first glass of wine

Make you dizzy?

Will she look like you…or?

The pain still resonates, but

Your new laughter is heard

Even while you hide in your room

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26 thoughts on “Last Of The Trick Or Treats”

  1. This poem was inspired by a teenager I know, who still is bit immature for her/his age and hasn’t figured out her/his sexual identity. No where near being in the closet, but somewhere in between a young teenage girl and a masculine desire.

    Liked by 4 people

  2. Yes, that’s similar to what I’m talking about. We love to say that “I don’t care what people think”. However, the statement itself is an attempt to change what others think about us. Funny creatures, aren’t we?

    Liked by 3 people

  3. even though you explain above that you know this person, i think you’ve done a fine job of empathizing with her. the details are right on. enjoyed especially the play on “snickers.” the photo also just reaches out and grabs the viewer.

    Like

  4. You really brought the image forward. I wasn’t thinking of poetical form or punctuations. It flowed as if it were alive and right there your heart or mine as a mother looked on with concern but also that moment when you want them to stay young and beautifully innocent. If you affect me that way, and you always do, it is the sign of you being a poet of our time and place. A footstep if you please, to always know will be there.

    Liked by 2 people

  5. I was a twig at that age and trying to fit in. I never made it. I’ve been an outlier my whole life. But I think that was the age where eat with your mouth shut and don’t make all that racket was commanded of my by my parents. Times I would go back, knowing what I know. But if I did, that little girl wouldn’t have turned into me.

    Liked by 1 person

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