Yesteryear Fiction

Shell of a Man
By Yvonne J.


Now I wade through time

For it never ceases to slow.

Not even when I scream and beg.

Not even when I kick and scratch.



Now I know-

you will never smell the violets in my hair.

You will never hear the sparrow sing our story.

You will never let the sun through your eyes

and into your soul.



And I'm still lost in your thoughts.

It's cold here.

And dark.

Your anguish surrounds me and I breathe it in.

Why are you so empty?



I search for you in your eyes once again.

And as I do I grow angry.

You've gone.

You've forsaken me.



Yet I still long to fill you and make you complete.

I still long to be beautiful in your eyes.


- - -
I go to high school somewhere in the depths of Miami. There's nothing I dread more than biology and boys with dirty hands. I believe paradise exists in the corner of the library where no one can see you cry at Emily Dickinson's beatiful, tortured mind.