Author’s note: This poem was written in winter during my second year of medical school following classes in respiratory, an ambiguous relationship, much contemplation on rejection and vulnerability and a confusing and difficult semester that left me questioning if I had chosen the right career.
Your scent, black,
like coffee the morning after.
The boy’s blue coat is yours.
I thought it would be nice if your secrets were mine to keep.
The scars I couldn’t show
came out at night when your spaces became mine.
Silverfish poisoned walls, hesitation — slow suicide
Climbing fences
I thought you saw my soul
For you it was bones.
My wrist in your hand, desire – a knife
You said you let the fire fade
with the songs we took from me.
Time stopped at 8:16 and everything after is the worst.
I could say more — kiss you, but I’m gonna go.
Tonight will be the longest night:
My winter solstice.
Contributing Writer
Creighton School of Medicine
Jocelyn is a fast-talking swing dancer from Tacoma, Washington. She appreciates short lines at the post-office and fine point pens. She is 26 years old and a third year medical student at Creighton School of Medicine in Omaha, Nebraska.
