Petals of ink in the Autumn breeze

I wish I was strong enough to show you who I was, let the layers of fake personality fall away like petals in the autumn breeze; I miss autumn… And I would let the petals fall in ribbons of ink.

I think I would want to be able to show you who I was so clearly you could read me over and over again, finding new depths and story lines twisted through out me. Although you would have to turn the pages with care, I’m a lot more fragile than you think.

Even if I had the strength, even if I truly wanted to, I’m not sure I would ever let you see me.

Not really.

When nothing but everything exists, everything becomes nothing and nothing is everything.

Yes, there is more to that than you or I can see.

I felt like such a woman, strutting down that footpath in those satin ruby heels. The night was around me and it was the blood flowing through my vain.

I know now, I am not a woman. Even if I thought I could strut. The moonlight that followed, watchfully, as I led a one person preseason must have seen nothing more than a little girl scrambling to fool herself.

The best type of fool after all, is a fool who fools them self.

Angry words, the sound of a crying child.

Cold shattering moments as doors slam and leave in their wake expectant silence. The world holding it’s breath.

These things, strip away layers of false womanhood.

I wish you could understand. Why was it that you never held my hand? Because I held my own head too high, preformed a perfect act of stability. Over righting confidence.

Nothing can be wrong. My head is too high.

You would have told me, if you knew, that helium keeps nothing up forever. Gravity takes hold. Drags everything down. I bloodied my fingers, grasping longingly above.

The woman with the cat tattoos. She told me something, about people like you.

Her hands smelt of floral soap but they held me close for the briefest moment and told me my story.

It has been so long since I was able to cry.

Tears like rivers through drought stricken lands.

I wish you had told me it was ok to cry.

This earth tastes bitter in my mouth, like poison seeping through my veins. Like hope torn away from those to whom it was their last possession. Hope fads to hopelessness and suddenly there is no difference. There only is.

I know, this only being, it frightens you. it crawls beneath your skin and sticks to the roof of your mouth. Where nothing is everything and everything is nothing.

I understand.

Petals of ink in the Autumn breeze

Emraldae

Melbourne, Australia

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Artist's Description

I’m beginning my final year of high school next year, and for holiday homework in english, we’ve been told to write a personal piece about identity and belonging.
It made me sit and wonder who I am. it’s a question I’m guilty of asking myself various times over the years.

Quite a few testing things have happened of late in my life, and in a way, this is an explosion of it all into written form.

I may take this down as it’s really just rambling strung together with hidden meanings behind nearly everything. Also because it’s quite personal, but I felt I should share it because I’m curios to see how other people interpret it.

Artwork Comments

  • Charmiene Maxwell-Batten
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