My eyes are like tidepools…

He told me he wanted to see the blood on the floor

I told him it was gone, that I’d mopped it up months ago or days ago depending on the incident.

He said the stains were there, that they’d never go away.

Blood doesn’t just wash away, it drips for years.

And I told him that tears never go away.

That the water leaves but the heavy salt lingers on my eyelids and cheeks and int the corner of my lips when  I tried to wipe them all away.

He said that he’d expected that.

That he could smell the taste and taste the smell.

That my eyes were like tide pools and that was a dead give away.

And I thought “dead.”

Dead like not living,

Dead like not breathing,

Dead like not moving, not touching, not feeling.

But my eyes are not tidepools.

They can’t be that shallow. That cold. That colored.

Note: Written in Tenth grade… Trupe’s class.

~ by carik on June 11, 2008.