Object Writing, Prose & Poetry Forum

May 23, 2019, 11:52:20 AM
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This week's words;

Sunday - Instructions

Monday- Motorcycle

Tuesday- Wildflower

Wednesday- Asparagus

Thursday- Stopwatch

Friday - Confetti


Word of the Day
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Author Topic: Tin Can  (Read 57 times)
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« on: March 16, 2019, 04:53:36 PM »

Fall colors the leaves differently - red, brown, yellow, all falling from the trees into our laps, as we enjoy nothingness. Our fingers interlock as the sound of a tin can kicks down the street playing kick the can, the reason we first met, remembering the game we once played together.

Falling in love colors my world differently. From the blue and green of a budding friendship, suddenly turned to a fiery red, wanting everything about you. I dreamed about your smell, the sweat dripping from your forehead after running for hours and hours. I longed to taste you, as we talked back and forth, late at night, through the tin cans running from one window to another, a string attaching the cans.

Falling into new habits changes the color of our relationship. The red passion I had turned to a dark pink, realizing what we had was real. I remember when you brought the tin can of alcohol into our clubhouse. We were both 13 and weren’t sure how this all worked. That night, the taste of liquor in our system, caused the social barriers to break down and we were able to touch for the first time that night. Since then, we never looked back.

When you fell, the lights turned off and the color was gone. I sometimes sit under the same tree, the one where we interlocked fingers and listened to the laughter of children. The streets are empty now. I bring your ashes in a tin can and grasp the cold metal, hoping you will come out like a phoenix. But you won’t. I have to accept that. I close my eyes, and wait.
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