Prompt TwentyTwo : The Things You See in a Day


This is my critical analysis
My clean cut observation
You have one hair approximately three centimetres long in your eyebrows
Its gone astray
You need a hair-cut
Though the patch is tanning
Let me fix it
And take your glasses

For a moment
Do I look like you?
Does the crest show?
Are my eyes dark enough?
How about my chin?
I have Mum’s face
Let me fix it
No, not like that
In the angle that’s unmistakably yours

I saw 365 fractals of colour in one tear drop
Hidden in the phone
And other brighter things
Your jaw snapping back and forth the smell of sun and hard water
In the musical way you tell your stories
Of the generosity of people
Whose job it is to smile so genuinely that one can forget
Enjoy the luxuries
That you Gritted teeth
Skinned knees to bone
Broke back Rebuilt walls
Paved streets with years of learning to be respected
House and home from home

Did you build it?
Will it break?
How firm does glass hold when we’re jumping up and down?

You have about a thousand freckles
And one scar on the side of your nose approximately three millimetres in diameter
Cosmetic remedy to miscellaneous lump
But I remember it felt like you were dying when you told us you were having an “operation”
How did you feel when I was born?
I don’t know if you blamed me
If I was the one fluke
You regretted                  just a little bit

I know I took a piece no one gets back…
Is that why?

This is my critical analysis
Of the way you look at broken walls and sew together tapestries
Make boats long bricked to harbours go sailing into war
10,000 years caught in the flicker of your eye
I notice how you speak
Arms spread out but shaking
The lostboy sent home still building Neverland
I see
We all see
What you did what you do what you’ve been who you are
We see
We see
We see
That you let me curl up in your lap
Even when you don’t know what to think of me
And sometimes you say things that make me remember
You’re as much a stranger to the world as I am
That we’re both small now I’m taller
Now the world is darker
You still help pick out my dresses

This is my critical analysis
I have written 456..7 words
That will make no sense for you
Because I can’t see this world how you do
But you are still always in the middle
For my mortality
I could never look to the eyes of God
But as I look into a quarter
This is what I see
Do you see it ?


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