falling (melancholy adolescent poem #n+1)

Today’s prompt used the words “melancholy adolescent poems,”  so I wrote one.  I even stole a line from a poem that I wrote when I was an actual melancholy adolescent.


Falling and falling. No one to catch me.
Look for the helpers, said Mister Rogers.
Where were those people?

No one to bandage my knee,
to kiss my scraped palm.

Falling and falling.
Stepped on a crack in the sidewalk,
fell into the underworld.

No feathers yet.  Waiting in short grass
for death by cat.

Falling and falling: a lost diamond.
The bezel worn through,
nothing to hold it in place.

Year after year, a golden crater in my heart.
A missing spark.

Falling and falling into my throat,
a cold fact, hard to swallow:
there is nobody.

I am hollow, and the wind blowing against me
makes an empty ringing sound.

Falling and falling into myself.
Where were those people?
Falling for years, into my own arms.

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