“Skins” by Bridget Therese Gallamore

Cold, broken heart like the  ice
in my glass,
Melting with every moment spent beside you.
Father figures turned to ancient stone to last forever while
Fail-fathers live on, hated in their vice,
falling blind into adulthood;

Past innocence and ideals stamped on the heart.
Tattooed on the skin.
Hands shake, stomach clenches, eyes and heart bleeding.
Kiss on the hair meant to heal a comforting friend;
Even the listeners need consoling.

People rush by like ghoulish open-mouthed trout.
A woman laughs and a man hides a smile meant for her.

She should have seen,
He should not have hid.

Tears slip past the lashes and where will they fall?
They were driving through the night,
Youth and soft hair mingling in the stars.
Their voices lifted to the sky: amnesic.

Their fingers will touch in the sky but never catch,
for beauty is meant to be seen and felt,
but never touched.
Instead I kiss you through Gemini’s bars.

Bridget Therese Gallamore is a 21-year-old who believes in the transformative power of words. She is not a special person, she has not dealt with many personal tragedies that others would relate to or feel are unique. However, she believes in empathy and feeling deeply, she believe in the human spirits’ ability to deal with personal chaos and heal. Bridget also believes healing comes from the exposure and sharing of human tragedy through any form of art. Although she has not personally experienced the tragedy which she writes about in this poem, she writes about the listeners’ perspective and exposes the trauma others experience to heal those who read my piece. She think this poem could affect the way readers view personal and familial tragedy.