Notice

I have to be quite, mother is sleeping

The antagonizing wrestle of the bristles encompassing my mind

As I brush my teeth

As I sit in the tub with the curtain closed behind the bathroom door.

This is the safe space

Yet my stomach hurts and makes noises that make me afraid. 

 

I have to be quite, mother is sleeping
 

To Notice

 

The lack of bounce from hard wood floors,

Amplifying the pressure from my heals as I tip toe

Across the dining room to finally quench my thirst

Feeling the resonance up my legs to my empty gut.

 

I have to be quite, mother is sleeping

 

To notice

 

The mythological scratch off the graphite on paper

Keep the movements small to not create a disturbance

Connecting lines until they make something familiar

Feeling the vibrations from my fingertips, up my arm and into my right ear

Wondering if she can hear.

 

I have to be quite, mother is sleeping
 

To notice

 

The chinckeling of the hallow wood from carefully picking up the fallen pencils,

Collecting the color to share a silent smile.

 

I have to be quite, mother is sleeping
 

Noticing

 

Working with one pencil creates less disturbance

Hearing the large thuds from across the hall

Each Step growing stronger,

Quickly jumping in my bed and hiding under the covers

The universal force field for any child in fear

From the impending doom that was to come

 

How many hours without TV?

How many hours continuing to sit in silence, alone?

How many hours afraid to eat breakfast or to pour myself water?

How many more days confined to my room?

How many more days to quietly attempted drawing this flower?

How many more days in isolation till I learn my lesson?

 

I have to be quite, mother is sleeping

 

NOW

To Notice

Closing the kitchen cabinet in slow motion

Keeping the goal to not disturb a speck of dust.

Pouring the milk before the cereal

Separating the screeching chorus wheat, sugar, and porcelain

Only going up or down the stairs,

For food, for water, a different window to stare out of

Never both in the same trip.

Wishing that there was another door to close

Hoping to muffle the sound

The bedroom, the bathroom, the shower curtain, the closet. 

Turning the baby sitter down to volume 5,

For a few hours, and peace of mind. 

 

I have to be quite, mother is sleeping

 

 

Realize

That moment you kiss after a fight,

And there’s still a surge of lighting between your lips

 

That moment you realize you love someone,

More than you ever thought was real

 

That moment where every fabric, every door knob, every chair

Has some wonderfully nauseating fun fact

 

That moment when you truly feel like you’ve known this person your entire life,

But the inevitable repetitious days makes them, shift

 

That moment you wake from dreaming of how they touched you,

Just to hold the memory

 

That moment you can still feel the trace of their fingers

On your arms

Your lips

Your neck

Your thigh

 

That moment you see new lines on their face,

That, no longer see You 

 

That moment you kiss,

And you notice, spite

 

That moment when you officially know what you shared is dead,

But your too scared to take an exit

 

That moment you realize you’re the only one in the game,

because you don’t want too loose

 

That moment in a fit of anxiety you hear a clock

ticking down the hours of the days your apart,

Because once again your alone

 

That moment you find your yourself caressing your own face,

To chase the memory of callouses from their hands

 

That moment you wake up on the couch after a night of liquid libations

Because the cushions felt like a hug from a loving parent

 

That moment when seconds need to be longer,

just so that you can hear the crack in their voice when they smile

 

That moment where you feel the emptiness in every embrace,

Like an iron pressing to a board, a lifeless daily routine

 

That moment you catch yourself smiling,

because you found a whiff of their sent on your clothes

Which dictates the rest of your day

 

That moment you realize you’ve cried more than you’ve eaten,

Today

This week

This month

This year

 

That moment you look in the mirror and see this vessel

That’s wearing your skin

 

That moment you realize you’re the one holding the tiger,

And the ticking finally stops