By Claire Burianek
Giant warehouse doors,
sunlight spills through
heating the floor
as I struggle to keep up.
You were omnipresent,
lying in wait
as a predator does for prey,
waiting for the perfect opportunity
to tell me I was never going to make it.
That my best would never be enough.
I would never be strong enough,
flexible enough,
talented enough.
Your all-pervasive stench
followed you around,
a stench so bad
I ground the peels from my oranges
into my hands
just to have something nice to smell.
The orange mixed with the chalk,
creating a hot sticky mixture
I could never quite wash off.
Underneath it all
was the stench of you.
It never faded
until you did.