(no subject)
library proctoring is the most boring thing to do in the world
so i write poetry..ish
Crushed
“I’m going,”
you whispered into
my mouth.
I felt your lips pulling away,
toward the door,
interpreting my drawn out-kisses
as agreements and goodbye’s.
You left me here,
in this dark room,
swallowing cold air,
kneading at my stomach,
watching as passing headlights
threw violent shadows across
the opposing wall.
I sat on the sheet splattered with surfboards
holding my fidgety limbs still,
empty as your promise to stay,
cold as waiting.
Silence was the virtue
I inherited from my Catholic Mother.
It manifests itself in every pause and
guilty hesitation, every thought of mine
that you claimed to read.
You always believed
I thought calmly,
irrationally, passionately.
You never imagined the
Insane conspiracies that lurked behind
The blue eyes you praised.
Alone, I can hate you,
or even dislike you.
I can watch patches of myself blush and sweat.
I can wrap myself in blankets and roll
and roll to the edge of the earth.
I’ll stop there to disentangle myself.
And there I’ll stay,
crushing you beneath all the thoughts I don’t speak out loud.
so i write poetry..ish
Crushed
“I’m going,”
you whispered into
my mouth.
I felt your lips pulling away,
toward the door,
interpreting my drawn out-kisses
as agreements and goodbye’s.
You left me here,
in this dark room,
swallowing cold air,
kneading at my stomach,
watching as passing headlights
threw violent shadows across
the opposing wall.
I sat on the sheet splattered with surfboards
holding my fidgety limbs still,
empty as your promise to stay,
cold as waiting.
Silence was the virtue
I inherited from my Catholic Mother.
It manifests itself in every pause and
guilty hesitation, every thought of mine
that you claimed to read.
You always believed
I thought calmly,
irrationally, passionately.
You never imagined the
Insane conspiracies that lurked behind
The blue eyes you praised.
Alone, I can hate you,
or even dislike you.
I can watch patches of myself blush and sweat.
I can wrap myself in blankets and roll
and roll to the edge of the earth.
I’ll stop there to disentangle myself.
And there I’ll stay,
crushing you beneath all the thoughts I don’t speak out loud.