I'd Wipe My Hands Clean If I Could

I slept by your side again

And dreamed

you left a violet bruise on my face

As I crumbled into the white abyss of the wall

You held me there, like a hostage

Hand to my neck, then left in silence.

I dreamed you repaid me

for the damages

You left a box on my doorstep

With a locket, some trinkets and a check.

If I could

I’d wake up in my childhood bed

On the sunny side of the street

Where the green walls gleam at me

As if they know all my secrets

A burst of pink light washes over me

As I sink into the softest of sheets

The salt air kisses my skin

And welcomes me home

to the yellow house numbered 31.

I could sleep, in peace

With nothing to haunt me

My hands,

clean

resting beneath my cheek

With nothing more to keep.

Sydney Halpin

Bristol RI, USA

Sydney Halpin is a creative-writing major from Bristol, Rhode Island. She discovered her love for writing at the age of seventeen when her grandmother passed away, and began writing about grief. Today, Sydney writes poetry and nonfiction.