Smoking Pit

Cigarette butts
no longer linger
concrete, but
I swear the cloud
of smoke lingers,
the sweat of adolescent
anxiety – the suffocating
pressure to comply –

Names escape,
but I remember
smugness and
rivalry, and
the spine-crawling fear
of confrontation,
and indisputable
in my mind
are the scars
of being so alone.

(Written for Twenty Four’s 50 word Thursday prompt.  Image supplied by Deb Whittam.)

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13 comments

  1. I have few good memories of high school, but it was the first time I was noticed as the creative type. I was even invited to attend a week-end, drawing workshop when I was fourteen. But even that was marred by tornado winds hitting the university residence while I was there. Interesting to hear that you were a teacher. I was also, but part-time. Still it gave me a decent pension for my retired years.

    Liked by 1 person

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