Tuesday, June 17, 2014

Skin Hunger

by Elliot

There we all sat
just us friends,
the television blaring its frames
     of Fastimes at Ridgemont High
     We all laughed.
     Inside we were crying.

     Years we had been in touch,
     yet none of us had ever felt
                                   so much
     as the cotton or mesh
     covering our flesh.

The cake was cut,
the champagne poured,
its bubbles making us
     high.
     We all acted crazy.
     Inside we felt stupid.

     Years we had greeted each other,
     yet none of us knew
                                    one another
     past the colored hair
     or make-up and wear.

There we all sat
when two of us broke the barrier
and held each other
     in our arms.
     They all whispered.
     Inside they were jealous.

     Years it's what they longed to do,
     yet none of them could break through
                                          the wall
     of inhibition and shame
     imprisoning the touch and desire's flame.

I pass by him
in the halls.
We turn our heads
     ashamed of our
     cracked wall, which we patch up
     by saying
     nothing.