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.)
My compliments to the author.
Hey, I’m writing an article on smoking. Something from the eyes of a marketer. Let me know if I can use some of the lines with proper acknowledgment of-course.
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Of course and thank you for asking
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That is so invocative, it just resonates with the emotions of exclusion. Love it 😊
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Thanks Deb. I wonder if we all felt it?
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I think that’s highly likely. I think we all feel vunerable at school, you begin to judge yourself against others and there’s that tendancy to find yourself wanting as a result.
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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.
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I was pulled into drama in high school (the stage) which helped me. High school was socially tough. It’s why I became a teacher. I wanted to make a difference for kids like me.
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sweat of adolescent
anxiety – this is what i call a totally wow phrase – trying to fit in can be such a difficult time
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Thanks Gina. I still remember it – course I spent years as a high school teacher too.
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i was a nervous teenager – everything was so overwhelming. so that sweat was not just from the equatorial heat! nice to know your background is in teaching.
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This is wonderful. Your poetry always moves me in some way. 💕
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Christine, that is so nice of you to say.
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It’s true V.J. My teenage years and all those adolescent feelings came rushing back when I read this poem.
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Have to admit mine did too when writing it.
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