masterclass

"must be a memory that takes place in a mode of transportation, playground, or grocery store." i think it will just be random. but i don't know for sure.

I had my elbow on the arm rest,
my shoulders turned to the window
so Mom wouldn't see.

Tears from the fight stained my cheeks
a cherry color. I saw the carcass
of my dreams strewn out on the battlefield,

bald and exposed. I had wrapped
my heart in chiffon-hope, and with
a simple switchblade, the layers fell off

like old leaves. I had staged my
proposition with care, first unrolling
a backdrop, then stringing together lights.

As I pulled the curtain back, she frowned,
asked if I was crazy. I heard a snap
and everything crashed.

My future-world was reduced to
sharp, blackened glass, splintered wood,
and a flicker.

As she pulled into the driveway,
I sat there in the sticky leather seat,
cracker wrappers at my feet,

wholly defeated.

why do i always write depressing things for my masterclasses? what? anyways. : - ) much love,
emilea