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The Web Poetry Corner

L.M. Jacobs


Washington, MI, US

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L.M. Jacobs

Sitting side by side,
This feeling I try to hide.
My back straight,
Hands in lap.
No space intruded,
A streamline gap
That I want to invade.
But there's a price to be paid
If it is done:
Then you have won.
I tell myself not to melt
And to forget all the feelings I've felt
And are feeling now.
But I don't know how.
How I wish I could just lean over
And rest my head on your strong shoulder
And softly sigh.
So close I could cry.
Our hands held tight
As we gaze at the light
Of the stage.
I am so afraid to turn the page;
So scared to advance,
To take a chance
And open my heart
To start
That great cycle once more...
The one that hurt me so much before...
So, here I sit with a blank look on my face,
Hoping and praying you'll invade my space.

i know a girl


L.M. Jacobs

who walked through a house alone.
This house was gray and old.
Windows were broken.
The wind shook this house.
There was no life outside:
Only sand and sky and silence.
Inside the house,
It was stagnent,
Like time had stood still
And just decayed.
It had the eerieness of a museum,
Or an antique shop,
Or a nursing home...
Where you can just feel decay,
You can almost touch the syrupy stillness of life.
The air was thick and warm.
The girl had chills.
Everything she saw frightened her.
Everything she felt,
Everything she knew
Was scary.
She was drawn to the attic of this house;
Something called to her from up there.
She floated up the stairs,
Her eyes glossy and trance-like.
The stairs and walls were made of the same wood,
Brown and a little shiny.
The entire house was dim,
A grayish brown color,
Except for the blood red velvety carpet
and the steram of sunlight in the attic
Pouring through a tiny circle window
Making a spotlight on the rusty orange sofa
With the clumpy white guts spilling out of the cushion.
The sight of this couch made the girl think of cottage cheese;
She thought she would throw up if she looked at it much longer.
Out of this whole ghastly house,
the girl hated the attic the most...
She wanted to run,
to close her eyes and scream,
to bury her head in her mother's lap.
But the girl knew there was no mother there,
There was no comfort,
There was no love.
This girl was wise.
She knew she couldn't leave.
She brought herself there for a reason.
She hadn't noticed the television until it turned on by itself.
She saw herself inside of it,
Running through a field of flowers.
Music pierced her tiny ears.
Loud music,
Music without any times, beats, or measures...
Just a flood of wails, shreaks, chimes, strings, and horns.
The television shut of
And there was a deafening silence.
The child swore she would never return to that place.
That house wasn't the first she had visited, though...
Or the last.
She still didn't know what she was searching for,
She was just searching,
For someone,
For something.
She was forced to scare herself every night
For a reason,
Some reason she did not understand.
But, she was just a girl,
A child.
Then her visits stopped.
She didn't want to know anymore.
She ignored the pull.
She tried so hard to forget.
And she did.
Until one night
She became a child once again.
She saw the house,
The gray one.
She saw the attic and the couch and it's guts...
It was all the same...
The child in the television, the music.
Nothing changed.
It was still so frightening.
This woman awoke crying
Like a child
Because of the things
She never did
And never knew.