All Things Left Unsaid
(My Now Empty Can of Worms)
Orange Creamsicle
Dreams trickle
Down the corners of your
Mouth.
Been
Scrubbing away
Spaghetti stains for
19 years,
They
Have a tendency to
Resurface.
It’s Friday the 13th,
Are ya feelin’ superstitious?
I don’t really want to remember you.
But feel free to tell dad
My arms are
Covered
In cobwebs.
I guess there always is
A “silver lining”,
Whether you meant it
Metaphorically, or quite
Literally.
I guess the
Weather holds up
Accordingly.
I
Don’t bathe in roses,
Anymore.
I
Don’t pluck daisies from
Behind the field,
Anymore.
I
Don’t do anything,
Anymore.
Dad patched
All the holes in the walls.
But
He still wants to
Sell everything.
He says he’s tired.
So am I.
Bailey O’Leary is a 19 year old artist in the making who is currently attending the University of Louisville. In her free time, she writes about burnt spaghetti, poultry, and insects.
