With Age

I am enamel, stained
From months, weeks, and days
Of that same dark stimulant
Crimson intoxication, depressing
Eroding and coating
The white that once was
And I am tired of waiting
For a day to open up
On the calendar, a call
To say that they are ready to see
Me now impatient
With daily mirrored reminders of layers
Building and outlining age
Forcing my hand
A sharp and shiny tool
To scrape off my own stains
Until no layers of sleepy life remain
I am clean and shiny again
Never mind my screaming, nerves
Throbbing with echoes of
“That was a bad decision”
Because I willfully forgot
That life leaves layers on purpose
For our own protection
From heat, from cold, while growing
Old
But I am momentarily made happy
By what I see reflecting back
Until almost immediately
I begin to add again that liquid armor
Let it harden
DO NOT TOUCH ME
Until plated plaque brings me back
To safety

— A.R.

20140115-114151.jpg

The Human Stain II by Fintan Whelan

~ by April on January 15, 2014.

2 Responses to “With Age”

  1. I hear this

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