I am this chalky, red balloon |
by Alora Ray

I am this chalky, red balloon
deflated on the tattered mat
by your mother's kitchen door,
praying to be kicked under the stove, perhaps, 
and forgotten about

my words, always fervent to a fault,
breathing life into the specter of my likeness,
bearing my burden, and my bounty,
tonight, are stale, 
pale stillborn, 
sweating blood

tonight, for pity's sake,
I edit myself out

Alora Ray is 20, temporarily lives in Northern Virginia, perpetually lives in a state of denial, performs for whimsy, writes by necessity.