closings xvi

Kinsey Peterson

I’ve buried myself under the dusty covers 

Of so many half truths

That when the pages are ripped from my spine

All that I will have 

Is a blank piece of paper 

Among the wreckage of what was my identity


So when my tongue is held tight to my cheek

The tarnished silver of second place

Biting against the soft of my lip

And my form

Aching listelessly against a rotating sky

I will lie among the strewn papers

And watch the wind sweep me away

As the world circles the living corpse

Of a child refusing to die


In the meantime I watch

the cigarette between my fingers 

Singeing the ink that has stained my nails

Waiting beside my closest friends

Until I can no longer taste the smoke 

that lingered in my throat


And I’m realizing 

that nothing has ever been more human

That missing the feeling of dying

on a sunny day

Next to the person you love

  • Author: Kinsey Peterson (Offline Offline)
  • Published: February 22nd, 2024 13:40
  • Comment from author about the poem: It's been a long few weeks, please forgive my absence.
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 9
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  • nephilim56

    I understand this poem very much, a good piece of work, thanks for the opportunity to read it

  • Neville

    this is more than tinged with sadness and an ache nigh on impossible to adequately describe ..... but which you more than adequately convey .. I am indeed sadly impressed by your ink .. write on Kinsey ... Neville 🤍👍

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