"Cecilia, or Ceal, recorded this as her first attempt at podcasting with the Young Writers Project. She is also a former summer intern for YWP. Thanks Ceal! "
Body Language (The Fight)
By Cecilia Giordano
Grade Eleven, South Burlington High School
I’m not sure at the moment,
if I can really hear you,
your lips and all your mouth is
moving, but the swish of your hair,
is soothing the skin of your neck,
with it’s motion, as you shake
your head at me,
and your eyelashes are being forced,
to withstand, the action of
being ripped away from their lower
and better half, repeatedly,
so your tears come forth to rescue,
to ease, the tragedy each strand of keratin
has already been a victim of feeling,
and your cheeks are flushed,
with anger, toward me, and I can’t hear
your words, I don’t know why,
but it seems the force of your hands,
pushing into me,
is all the more captivating,
it leads in lines all the way to
the slump of shoulders,
as if in some way expressing that,
they’ll never get over,
the way I’m staring, so bend forward they must,
and I know your lungs are heaving,
because I can see that through
the motion of your nightgown dress,
they’re trying so hard to express,
how tight the imaginary belt is around your chest,
and I don’t know what I’ve done,
because I can’t hear anything,
but I know you’re screaming so loud,
you’re trying so hard to break through,
I can tell, by the way you’re curling your toes,
so tight, how they seem to not forgive you,
how the bend in your knees,
can only be described as preventative,
as if you’re body is close to falling,
and out the tears keep coming,
while down your hands are heaved,
after having been thrown above your head,
to symbolize the pent up energy behind your body’s,
release, and I know by the snapping of your jaw,
that you’re telling me to leave,
but all I’m hearing is how your body
could forgive me, if I just looked you in the eyes,
and I’m not saying anything,
or maybe I am and I can’t hear myself,
maybe I’m yelling, I can’t even fu**ing tell,
I don’t know why we’re fighting anymore,
but you’re footsteps are evading me,
and you’re stepping toward the door,
and I can’t hear anything, but I know there’s nothing left to hear,
and I’m not sure if this can be salvaged,
this wreckage, this track we’ve gone so far off of,
how do we get back,
and your hand is reaching for your coat,
but I know by the way it didn’t squeeze fully shut,
that one motion would be enough,
that you’d forgive me,
and remember the depths of our love,
if I could just get you to look in my eyes,
so I try for it, and try and try again,
until you have no choice but to face me
so I have no choice but to end this plainly,
with a kiss as gentle as your lips
would allow, this apology to be,
you dropped your coat and pulled away,
and as far as I could see,
your eyes weren’t scolding,
just tired and relieved,
your lips trembled into motion,
I couldn’t hear a thing,
but I knew you were saying that you still loved me.
