Having attended a One Taste creative writing workshop hosted by the amazing poet/spoken-word artist Polarbear i have finally finished what we begun, many thanks for the insight, found a new angle on this piece; much more character based.
Amie,
never really liked her name,
that’s why she made them up,
and so they often changed.
Coffee, the girls and laughing,
causing her voice to rise in pitch.
Who’s been sleeping with who
and she’s a fucking bitch,
but quickly then to serious
as in the flicking of a switch
a defence mechanism long established
the girls knew her nervous twitch.
“That’s it I’m going to tell him,
right to his fucking face”
and realising their protestations
would have just of been a waste,
they wished her good luck
and much love always,
pleading she’d take care
and a promise to stay safe.
Sarah,
took the seat at the back
as had become her custom,
twirling wisps of hair jet black
gazing blankly out the window,
and in this time her mind relapsed
to a memory all but distant,
defining when times had just changed
the stopping in an instant,
of a soundtrack composed with screams,
playing for as long as could be remembered,
and now it was the silence
on which her attention centred,
disturbing was this experience anew
for it meant that they had ended,
and so she wished for familiar sounds
no matter how unpleasant.
Jane,
Awoke from her dreaming
and brushed her arms to warm the skin,
stepping from the bus into the cool night
she felt the scars adorning them,
souvenirs collected during their arguments,
and when all seemed lost, including herself,
reality came cutting in.
The streets she had stomped
bearing uncanny resemblance
to the child they had raised,
before having been forsaken
a quite unique situation
that come their separation,
neither had laid claim,
no contestation,
of custodial rights
each to the other willing
to offer the child,
an unclaimed prize
after the carnivals left town,
a charity shop hand-me-down,
a little girl in lost and found.
Emma,
Stood outside
her father’s door,
Now I’m going to give him what for,
She assured
and reassured herself,
a mind full of words that would surely hit,
On bated breath
with clenching fist,
a comeuppance served long overdue,
it surely was time that he knew,
the pain, the hate
held by his only child,
as she had suffered all this time,
how satisfying be the imminent demise,
to relinquish what was held inside,
a torrent of venom
as poisonous the snake bites,
for which she was now infamous
as she had bit before,
leaving Adam damned for evermore
Claire,
turned,
heading back down the path,
having danced once again
her favourite dance,
she sparked her lighter
and stared into the flame,
a realization bright
it was always the same,
every time that she came,
she’d make it to the door,
turn,
burn
and inhale,
curse beneath her breath,
then be on her way,
I guess this singular constant in life
helped to keep her sane,
when the only thing she had control over,
was the choosing of her name.
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