untitled untitled untitled (as a state of mind)
surreptitious fidelity to you in these writings
fighting the cliché makes me more susceptible to the banality
timeworn thoughts roll around in my head
make my way to your desk like a ship to shore.
everything is supposed to make up for the wasted time i spent on you.
empty wallet that used to hold your hand and no spare love.
our talks feel like a walk across a plane because of how everything you say is expected. i know what i’m getting into when inside jokes resurface.
i wear a shirt that reads “sucker” because you’re the only one who gets it, but the only one who wrecked me like you did.
the start and end of my poetry, and hiding in between.
she asked about how you could be this way, and i felt it, but in a major key. mirrored and dynamic conversation.
flip the switch but all the lights are still out.
it’s been a year but the anger is still in.
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you said that last year was so full of drama.
you meant full of me.
it caught me so off guard when you called me your best friend today. scored confusion when you looked me in the eyes as you said it.
keep pictures to myself because i’m a hoarding, paranoid, reminiscent ball of angst.
on the way home, routine anger like drinking a bottle of revenge with your name on it.
lie over lie over truth.
i know about the pictures, and the being grounded, and all of the rest.
part of me says that you don’t owe me anything, but the other screams to loathe your every move.
pull your teeth out of me.
let me bleed out, slow and painful.
sore to the air and everything in store.
ever since i took up writing, you’ve found your way in the lines hiding near the words. shred the admiration. better yet, shed it. it regrows after a day, and then discards itself again.
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i think it’s time to get out of here. fix an unbroken door. wave a taxi to steal me to the city. somewhere with different air. the people who won’t stare. decide to pack, leaving the sorrow on the bed. turn to exit and flee the brain that’s in my head.