Poem: Vulnerable

I wrote a version of this poem over ten years ago and included it in my book, Everything I am Not Saying, a collection of my poetry. I’m not a natural poet, but sometimes I pretend to be. With that book, and that poem, I was loosening my pen in preparation for the novels I hoped to write (and eventually did!). In it, I offered confessions of one night stands, hopes for the love I hadn’t found yet (but eventually did!), and whispers of emotions I couldn’t speak aloud.

I recently dusted this poem off and spruced it up a bit. This updated version now lives in the Redwood Writers 2024 Poetry Anthology, One Day. And you can also read it here:

Vulnerable

by Crissi Langwell

The sky is a rosy pink
lit ablaze by strange fires
flush with a romantic glow.

I sit here with my pen
looking out at the hazy sky
wrapped in a bathrobe
having washed your scent from my skin.

I’m feverish from the heat
not to mention the shock
over the longing that won’t rub clean.

I didn’t see it coming
and I am suddenly silent
unsure of the words
that will wrap around
whatever it is they need to cover.

The sky is on fire and surely it’s my fault.

The shreds of my heart
carried out on the sleeve of your jacket
left me breathless in vulnerability.

I swallowed the word “stay,”
watched as you walked away,
felt overcome with regret
for not speaking up,
for being so careless in the first place.

And all I can do now
is sit in the dimming light,
witness the sky turn from pink to purple
and then fade to black 
as our scene ends in your mind

and hits replay in mine.