Bones
By Jessica Lyon-Wall and Autumn L Faye
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About this ebook
Bones is one woman's journey through the depths and corridors of her fragile yet resilient soul. She deals with hurt, isolation, death, insecurity, resentment and many other topics in Poetic form.
Coming from a Singer/Songwriter background Lyon's poetry often reads like the perfect composition for one to relate to, delive
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Book preview
Bones - Jessica Lyon-Wall
1
The Craft
I chose my craft but was not
Created in its image.
I wasn’t allowed at 5 to float and dive
In a pretty pink leotard.
I was sickly.
I had no hips and
Though I dreamt of
Swan-like arms and swollen feet,
It wasn’t supposed to be.
The scars (the first ones) reeked of sour milk
Things burst that shouldn’t
explode.
I didn’t choose that.
Scars, the afterwards,
I wrote them on myself,
The colour of the fruit.
Said little but
Raided the piggy bank,
Then moved to the tune of their gilded frames.
I dabbled in my teenage years
and starved myself to fit.
It took me in and held me
Carefully as a butterfly,
I emerged, but my bones sang.
At 18 when it hurt too much,
Disease bled me dry.
I danced at clubs
Instead,
Above the waist of my crutches
Or chair.
No.
Now I just watch and wait.
All I can say is, read my epitaph.
I’ve breathed life into words, but-
I used to dance.
Beneath the Blonde
Breaking out of glitter and gold,
I throw myself into the folds
Of pillows, soft, I lie and weep-
Maidens will, yet I cannot sleep.
Red roses at the monstrous door,
I live for the boys I knew before,
When they leave, I breathe too deep-
Maidens will, yet I cannot sleep.
It’s the only thing that can be done,
Just greasy waves and boundless sun,
But, oh!
The promises I keep-
Maidens will, yet I cannot sleep.
When I Fall Asleep
I was 12 when they brought me back.
The process
Was a slow one,
Over a year I went unnoticed,
Pale, thin, and guzzling
My brother’s juice in secret,
For fear of getting caught.
One day I went to sleep
And didn’t wake up.
I don’t know how I got there,
But I remember some bright lights.
Then starched sheets and my teddy,
The wires in my hair.
They said I had been done 3 days,
Link up my machines,
I could be an industry!
(This is perhaps a story I should never tell)
I’d find my mum in the medicine room,
Practicing,
Stabbing citrus again,
But oranges don’t bruise and satsumas
Don’t feel pain.
The needles get shorter,
The technology refined.
They were ever sure
They would fix chemistry in my lifetime,
And find a decent cure.
I am fearful, and alone with it.
That is how it feels.
And if I do sleep,
I have the dreams.
I settle down,
I pull the duvet up,
Turn the lamp off,
I wonder what my night will bring,
Whether my body is done,
If the morning will come.
Or if it will blossom
Into the perfect combination
Of sugar and hormones,
A day I’ve never seen before.
At the clock’s twelfth strike,
Now the sun glows
Like corridor lights.
How I live is this-
And this is what it’s like.
Harm