miss

decembersecondtwentyseventeen

I'm afraid of what we will be

Afraid of what you'll think of me

I'm afraid of what your brown eyes will see

Will they see my heart?

Will they see how filthy it is?

'Cause of what I've done

I'm afraid of my own fist.

Maybe at the bottom of the green glass

I'll be able to take it back

I'll look down this green glass

So maybe this will pass.

I am self-destructive

I'm a disapointment

I'm an alcoholic

That I hope your eyes might miss.

I hope your eyes will miss the sight of me.

Author's Note

review! (Among the many sad and personal truths and ideas in this piece, what's most special to me about this poem is how it ends. "Miss" can mean two different things but both are applicable.)