When I was younger, my family had a very tall tree in the backyard right next to our house; the kind whose bark created deep, vertical grooves and the edges started to peel up in the fall. At the base, it was split into three very tall trunks, and the lowest branches seemed to be near the roof of the house. Not to mention, all of the lower branches were dead.
Every year after the snow melted in March, my brother and I would pick up the dead sticks and branches off the ground and make a pile on the other side of our yard. The grey pile never grew very big, but to a ten-year-old, any sort of yard work was boring enough to cause complaint.
I c
the walls are beige and the light is yellow.
outside, the sky is grey.
always grey.
the paper is white and dirty with paint.
a cup sits holding grey water.
there are used socks on my floor.
the tissues from my garbage have spilled
into the pile of hair in the corner.
the dirty green curtain is drawn.
the ceiling light doesn't work anymore.
my bed is covered with papers and dirty clothes.
my white rug has dirt and old hair covering it.
it's actually a towel.
there is dust on every surface.
i can hear the air filter running in my bathroom.
im afraid to clean my shower drain.
hair and dead skin pile up and stay wet.
it sme
It's been a long day,
and I thought that when
I sat for a nap, I would wake up
in Tomorrow.
But it's still Today.
You are still standing
in the shadowed corner of the public
where the sun bounces off your glasses,
and each sunspot forces
my eyes to turn again.
Even when I turn around,
the soft glimmer catches my eye.
Fading so slow,
as if I should give up,
your silhouette remains,
demanding to be seen
by those who know of its weight.
It's been a long game,
I've both won and lost
the best and the worst prize
all in three months time
at the end of a long eight years;
but your grip on my hands
won't let me drop the dice.
I know we're good. I think I'm fine.
I know you don't like me, the illusion was mine.
We talked like I wanted, and everything was okay,
I know now I'm free, I don't have to play.
The taste of copper still burns on my lips,
the warmth of your arms above my hips.
The fire I held within my hands
felt like holding water in a cup made of sand.
I'm as happy as anyone would be
who lost their love, just trust me.
Waiting for you, for all this time
only open my mouth, it made me blind.
Dark spaces in your room late at night,
your eyes reflecting the pale moonlight,
the heat of our bodies presses so close
that
The wind rustles the leaves softly
as I walk along the lonely street.
The sky is empty, save for
the black abyss that was once filled with light.
It was a warm day tuned cold,
the day she ran away.
I remember the warning, and
soon forgot. A week later,
the night sky shone no more,
and every last ray of light disappeared.
It did not hit me until this moment,
how much I would miss her,
this personal pain that I feel,
but I often wonder the reasons for which people do things;
personal interest?
or are they driven by an outside force?
The straight, long, brown hair, now
dyed,
cut off at the neck.
You an
The light in your eyes reflected from
the moon out the window
is still as our eyes
meet.
The warmth from the
thin blanket thrown over us
can't compare to the heat from your
hand on my hip,
and your fingers gingerly cupping my chin,
and the warmth of our bodies pressed together
like two puzzle pieces fit in a perfect, snug fit.
I drape my arm over your thin frame,
and feel your muscle loosen at my fingertips, and
I smile as I press my forehead to your warm neck
and I hear you exhale in bursts,
silently laughing.
I pick my head up and pull it back, just long enough to get a glimpse
of the happiness and innocence that touches your face, be