Abandon
by Toni Scales
And maybe we were a little too much in love
with decay. The sensuousness of entropy.
Everything frayed at the edges
and dust falling into our mouths as we slept.
The way disorder threatened to overtake
everything that we loved. Every door lost
or creaking on its hinges. How we ached
to be beautiful, but there was only mold and rot.
Everything came off in our teeth.
Buttons and barrettes. Bobby pins.
The white lilies turned brown and withered.
There was too much silence, everywhere.
All we knew was this dead emptiness
inside us, folded into stale blankets
and white dresses.
We folded dead roses into mattresses.
Day by day, we began to lose control.
It happened, then it didn't. I could walk
through any door and find myself crying
in the bathtub. Verdigris and vines
choking all the teacups.
That year I was a burnt-out house.
The wind that rattled the windows,
boxes that were never unpacked.
All the light bulbs and chandeliers shattered.
We'd look and in seconds
ivy had crawled through the pipes.
I'd look away and look back,
all the rooms turned upside down.
Toni Scales is a disabled writer born, raised, and writing in Texas. She worked in funeral service. Her poems have appeared in Lily, Wicked Alice, Stirring, Blossombones, Rogue Agent, and The Pedestal Magazine, among others. Her first poetry chapbook Blue Rebecca was published by Dancing Girl Press. Website: https://toniscalespoet.wixsite.com/toniscales/home-1
