INNOCENCE By Shayna Boisvert Parthenon Even within my youth, I sensed something… I recall when it came to me Tucked softly into bedHow irresistibly comforting it felt To be tucked within the sheets I nnocent Swiftly this would end…I no longer take for granted simplistic, loving actions such as being tucked into bed I slept so soundly that I never did picture those who didn’t have comfort nor warmth A realization startled me into silence, shocking my very conscious my innocence lost- before Pan found Neverland, before the fall of the Parthenon. My life now, a raindrop, glistening, caught in a spider’s web. Life would never go back, Stuck in a permanent flight, racing forward as if being pursued- The blue moon- Relentless white overwhelming the dark siege of twilight… I long for a moment a single instance of true stillness before Pan finds Neverland, before the fall of the Parthenon. Smoked glass i lie beyond hurricanes made only of smoke and carpet which push moss between your toes trees that rub green against stained glass and daisy chains that blow may against the iced ponds of your collarbones and the mountain peeks of your shoulders “tales are written within our blood” and i have mine to tell if we’re all folklore strung up on seeds of dandelions let me walk on glass i stole from elysium, shall we open pandora’s box? of eternal fire flashing crimson and blue let me be a girl wearing a jester’s mask or perhaps cloaks of silver and lost baby teeth Lily Like a flower, I allowed myself to be cut Petals passed around With their scent bringing happiness To everyone, but me They bring smiles to their faces But the missing petals Only cause me to wither away into nothing. Eden feet sift through wispy emerald grass. crimson ferns scratch thy naked breast.Innocence. Fidelity. Ecstasy. Purity.soft hands. heart opened wide. Full of Grace, Free of Sin.beware Forked Tongues with words dipped in honey tricking Curious mindsmaking thou Lust for Temptationjust one bite to Fall from Grace ### I always wished on stars Yet I never prayed before bed. What logic is there, in nighttime prayers? By age six my vocabulary, excelled my mother’s. At seven I made my first friend When I was eight I realized as the youngest, I would be the last to die. My thoughts began to race, at age nine . I read ‘Hamlet’ myself, when I was ten. When I was eleven I taught myself guitar. My friend laid on her deathbed, when I was twelve. I never had a true best friend. I read I played music I was lost in my own head At least there things made sense. So now I try to swing to the clouds. I wish on dandelions by blowing the fairies away And I hop over the cracks in the pavement When no one is watching. But it’s not because I don’t know how to grow up. Its that I never truly was a kid.  About the Author:Shay Boisvert is a sophomore at Saint Francis University in Loretto, Pennsylvania. She is majoring in English Literature and Philosophy and minoring in French Cultural Studies and Communication. She was inspired to become a writer after reading the Harry Potter novels at age eight and began writing in high school. Besides writing short stories, she is now an editor for her school’s literary journal Tapestries. Currently she is studying abroad in the south of France while working on her first novel. |