Poetry Reading Night

2007-07-16T13:50:00.000-07:00

The Youth Center has covered the room with tinsel and and blackchrome paper. The light's are dimmed and the stage is highlighted with a spot light. There is a Microphone stand and chairs spread out in random positions. It's tacky in a beautiful sense of the word. It is poetry reading night.

Boy's with bad acne and to much hair gel stand in front of the Microphone and read poem's on lost love. Sappy sonnets that make me feel sick to my stomach. Someone mutter's behind me. Classical music is playing on unseen headphones. The boy's voice quivers over the last syllable, I can tell he is trying not to cry. I give him my respect and avert my eyes.

I read one of my own poems, my voice shakes over the first two words. My face is red, my stomach filled with fluttering wings. I can feel eyes on me, it makes me feel naked. I am surprised anyone clapped. We pass hours eating popcorn and milk balls. I lean my head against Tony and smell sweat. His shirt clings to his side, not offering me comfort. I breathe it in and let it embrace me.

Dan, has to be the most talented boy I know. He wears his hair in corn rows, when he talks he slurs. His eyes are dark, and I know he has seen to much in his fifteen years. He stands in front of us and reads about how he feels when his father leaves. His words seem to personal to share with us, so angry, so alive, so sad. I think that's what makes me love him more. He has shown us every aspect that makes him who he is and he never backed down or took his thoughts back. Once it is out there, you can never take it back. He knows that.

Awards are handed out, I won Most Vivid. The metal is cheap, but it is the thought that counts, or so they say. I put it around my neck, hug my friends. I have Tony hold me once more, I want everything to blur around me. I want everything to stop, in a way only bestfriend's can make it stop. In all his excitment, it is nice to know he still cares.

Literary Confessional

Poetry Reading Night