Dried Up

I spent the morning judging poetry for the school's poetry competition, Last Poet Standing. It inspired me to post the only poem that I have ever written. It came in a time of great frustration, but I like it. It's strange; I feel like I'm exposing a small bit of my soul to the world. I guess that's what poetry is--the embodiment of the soul. In any case, I hope you enjoy it. [Update: This poem was accepted to be published in Juxtaprose, BYU-Idaho's poetry journal! Hooray!]


Dried Up
by Kiah Carroll

You look across the room

And you’re falling.

literally

The sight of her makes you falter

And your feet turn into luke-warm jello.

The ground is a welcome home.

You press your face into the plush carpet

In hope that she will one day 

Reciprocate the on-goings of your soul.

The sound of her voice,

That angelic noise, floods through your skin

And speeds through your veins,

Filling every inch of your body with warmth.

her every word

every sentence

every insight

sets your heart on fire

Your mind is baffled.

No logic could justify the way you feel,

But you couldn’t imagine being without her.

you want her

need her

by your side

always

She is everything you have ever wanted,

And you are fascinated.

You have spent months analyzing her every move.

watching her

cry

smile

laugh

yell

But you did it passively.

You watch her now from the floor,

Peering up through the carpet’s fibers,

Waiting for her to kneel by your side

And crawl into your open arms.

she would fit nicely

picture perfect

almost

I wish I could make you happy.

I wish I could run to your tree-sized arms

And feel protected from the world.

but my legs are broken

and my wishing well is dry