By Abigail Beene
I couldn't tell if it was because she looked at me or I looked at her,
But somewhere within those glances was so much love and so much compassion.
Onlookers could see it, dogs could smell it, and I could feel it.
It rocked the once-still waters somewhere deep within my soul.
It shook the once stable frame that held me.
It destroyed my home and everything I owned.
Gone was my comfort zone.
But we rebuilt it. It wasn't ash and stone for long.
We made it better.
A comfortable discomfort.
An exciting sway of my skeleton.
A calming crash of the waves hidden in the pit of my stomach.
A beautiful dance of butterflies floating with ease in my rib cage.
And you
You caused this roller coaster.
Sweet torture
The best I've ever felt.
Love and protection
Seemingly unwaivered, though I am full of doubt.
The doubt is where the torture was born
But the sweetness is how you changed it for the better
A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: I am 15 years old and I live in Georgia. I've always had a knack for writing but I never thought I was talented or anything like that. Last semester I took Journalism at school and as an assignment we had to write some sort of poem or short story for a writing competition. I wasn't even going to do it so I began to draw. I drew a tattered and torn up heart and suddenly I was scribbling down words about how chaotic my heart can be. The finished product was a poem. I ended up turning that poem in. It was good. The way my teacher read it and gave it back to me with tears in her eyes told me that. I reread it over and over trying to figure out where it had come from because surely, I couldn't do that. Yet, I did. something inside of me just took over and I had created something that someone liked. The best part of the whole ordeal was that I had found an escape. When I write I don't feel anything. I don't hear the world. Im not stressed. When I write I drown all of my worries in ink. That's why I write.
I couldn't tell if it was because she looked at me or I looked at her,
But somewhere within those glances was so much love and so much compassion.
Onlookers could see it, dogs could smell it, and I could feel it.
It rocked the once-still waters somewhere deep within my soul.
It shook the once stable frame that held me.
It destroyed my home and everything I owned.
Gone was my comfort zone.
But we rebuilt it. It wasn't ash and stone for long.
We made it better.
A comfortable discomfort.
An exciting sway of my skeleton.
A calming crash of the waves hidden in the pit of my stomach.
A beautiful dance of butterflies floating with ease in my rib cage.
And you
You caused this roller coaster.
Sweet torture
The best I've ever felt.
Love and protection
Seemingly unwaivered, though I am full of doubt.
The doubt is where the torture was born
But the sweetness is how you changed it for the better
A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: I am 15 years old and I live in Georgia. I've always had a knack for writing but I never thought I was talented or anything like that. Last semester I took Journalism at school and as an assignment we had to write some sort of poem or short story for a writing competition. I wasn't even going to do it so I began to draw. I drew a tattered and torn up heart and suddenly I was scribbling down words about how chaotic my heart can be. The finished product was a poem. I ended up turning that poem in. It was good. The way my teacher read it and gave it back to me with tears in her eyes told me that. I reread it over and over trying to figure out where it had come from because surely, I couldn't do that. Yet, I did. something inside of me just took over and I had created something that someone liked. The best part of the whole ordeal was that I had found an escape. When I write I don't feel anything. I don't hear the world. Im not stressed. When I write I drown all of my worries in ink. That's why I write.
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