Get Ready with Me

Get Ready with Me - Sinead Kiley (Del Norte High School - 12th Grade)

Oftentimes, when I finish a book, I think about death. 

Not always, but enough times that now, 

When I press the pages together I try to shake the idea out of my mind, 

Let it drip from my ears like water as I shower 

I used to listen to music while I showered 

Used to dance as water bounced off me onto greying tile 

I stopped dancing when my arms started to feel heavy and the emptiness of my body foreign I stopped dancing when I started to feel guilty anytime anyone said my name. I stand now, maybe sit. 

My mom used to tell me to paint my toes before I shower, 

So the water drips down and cleans all the mistakes I made 

The mistakes I make now are far too big for just my shower 

Now my toes are bare as I slowly turn off the faucet, 

As the idea of death slips back into its rightful place in my head 

Only one wall in my room is bare 

The only one I can stare at now 

The pale green looks back at me in disgust, and I forget to blink 

My door is always closed these days 

But I always keep my window a quarter open 

Sometimes I say it’s so I can hear the sounds of frogs at night 

Sometimes I’m honest enough to admit I am too much of a coward to open it all the way 

This is when I turn on the music 

The speaker is used to the four songs I play 

I don’t know all the words, 

I have memorized the way they make me feel 

The way the sounds prick and scratch and claw at my armor, 

Like the books I love and hate the most do 

I don’t remember how my grandparents looked anymore 

I forgot their voices the day I stared down at my feet pinched into my Mom’s small black heels And watched my Dad cry 

I can’t cry. 

The burning sensation in my throat becomes apart of who I am and

my tears never have the courage to traverse the planes of my face I am jealous of those who can feel and not be ashamed 

Jealous of you who can love and never look back 

Now I stew under the weight of my own blanket, 

Until the itching sensation of silk against my unshaven legs begs me to leave I shave every two days and I wonder why everything I’ve ever lived is a circle.