Picket Fence

In the garden,
where we planted the picket fence
lay the remnants
of the life we could have lived

                                               now ideals of existence sway in the wind
like golden flags taunting my eyes
fighting me for my desires
there is a rivalry between liberty and adequacy

    and so

I surrendered many times
  and painted lullabies 
         across the walls 
to lure myself into slumber 

                                    the little creatures of sadness
 that sit in the shadows of this home
I feed them by hand in the morning
with miniature silver spoons 

suddenly

lightning rolls into our room
the rain spews down and the grass swells up
“if you’re not careful,
I’ll swallow your soul into mine”

 I peer out the window thunder-struck
the world looks back and listens to me breathe
the air seems infinite after the rain
I inhale and hold it in until my face turns blue

because

  any way is good to grasp a gasp of you
stretching seconds out in case I make mistakes
and if riddled with regret
I can reword, rewind things in my mind

  tomorrow morning, out in the garden
we’ll pick up the picket fence
we’ll fill the gaps again
and life will recommence. 

Amelie is a 22 year old writer living in the South of France.