Jessicas poem

Just a small space

It is a secret place, kinda like hiding under the Christmas tree, looking up through the twinkling lights of stringy silver and gold. This secret place seems familiar. This place has three distinct colors that I spy through these color blind eyes, blue, gray and white. There are some sticky things where the white meets the gray so you don't want to get to close to those, the blue is soft like combed cotton but peculiarly angled towards the wall. This secret space often shields you from bloodshot eyes, fowl breath, and long hairy arms. It is large enough to hold a friend with you if you are small, but most often it is used when you are alone. Keep quiet now though, because you don't want to be found there alone unless you like being dragged across the floor and squeezed so tight you think your eyes will pop out.  Loud obnoxious voices can be heard down the hallway hollering B E V E R L Y ! which echoed enough to make you stone cold.

Then your older and you realize this secret spot was just the spot behind the couch in the living room...

ahem...

So, he is sitting there eating a cheese ramen as he was suddenly back in Korea, he had drank so much he was lost, up and down unfamilar dark alleyways and ducking in and out of makeshift homes along the way. Lucky for him there was a turtle ditch in a back alley that appeared to offer some level of privacy and shelter from the cold and fortunately he just happened to have his custom made leather trench coat on for warmth. as he took another bite he remembered his time there with a woman who was quiet and quintessential to his every need, as they embraced for several hours it was as if they were the only two people in the world, they fell asleep. he awoke to her naked, cleaning herself with a washrag out of a small pot on the floor, she came to him and began to gently clean him up as well. The taste of the ramen reminded him of many times therein early on and of some heavy times later. He was thinking he should have died there in that ditch that fateful night or maybe again when he got off the bus in the wrong city. It was dark and dreary when he stepped off as the driver pulled away quickly, where were all the lights and the familiar sounds of the street bars and dance clubs. Then out of the darkness a lady appeared coming towards him, but she was different she wasn’t trying to pull him into a brothel down a dark alley but spoke broken English and offered him to help find his way, he should have died there to. Further into the countryside he went seeing how the locals really lived before finally ending up in a city of lights named Seoul. The women of the night there were much more brazen than those up north and were offering themselves to nearly everyone passing by, he remembered thinking they looked like some old city hookers complete with leather boots up to their naked bums. Poking through the bowl of noodles and dried vegtables tears were forming in his eyes. Thoughts began to race through his mind of things he had done and why, the question why just kept coming back unanswered. the memories begin to fade....

Old memories awakened

That time when you are physically hurt to a point where you can't fix it alone but realize help is not coming and your on your own again, its a vicious cycle and I do mean vicious... You will have pain, shed tears and feel anger all at the same time...

Sorrys won't help the situation, they make the cut a little deeper...