#drehmer

Give In/Up Every night is the same staring up through the bottom of the curtain at the halo engulfing the moon. Thoughts dervish at the speed of sound with spirals of memory loosening my reserve. I give into it (always at 4am): The hysteria The shame The grief The obsession The guilt The pain The ignorance The desolation My heart is an unexamined vessel, an empty tennis court echoing with the sound of racket crashing into ball, that no one will ever hear. Aleathia Drehmer 2017

Abu al-Haul He laughs in the land of unending fiery sun while snowflakes land on my screen perfect for one second, individual and delicate until he melts them knowing I stand fearful of frozen death Aleathia Drehmer 2017

The Stranger She looked past her face in the mirror, behind the eyes, to the place that holds her fear. Will you ever be not afraid? she whispered Will you ever tear down the brick and let them in? She couldn't answer but watched how she allowed the pain and tears to make her face grotesque. This was her without a mask, without being the pretty face they always want to see. Aleathia Drehmer 2017

The Empty Desk Love was young and the lie was still fresh and malleable in his hand when she presented him with the delicate hourglass filled with black sand. The card read, all we have is time. She felt as if eternity slid through the narrow aperture. He knew his stage was set, she would always be his fat lady who didn't know how to sing. When his lie was complete, it was the only thing left on the empty desk, an hourglass filled with tarnished hope, the sands awakened to the truth and moving no more. Aleathia Drehmer 2017

Under Lock & She keeps the skeleton key stitched tightly to her inner thigh. Every step rubs the metal across her abraded skin. Key shaped scars old and then reopened; too tough to bleed anymore.   She keeps it hidden in plain sight knowing they never look at the things they hunger for and take so easy. To get to her heart they'd have blood on their hands, under the breath they say I found the key but the lock rusted long ago. Aleathia Drehmer 2017

The Dutch Girl She wanted to understand the heart and how the brain made it skip beats [and love]      [and flutter] [and ache]    [and scream] [and bleed]     [and grieve] All she could do was stick her finger in the hole, gaping like a dark tunnel, to prevent her own death by drowning. Aleathia Drehmer 2017 November 5

Aleathia Drehmer