For ChrisA Poem by under-the-waterneeds work.
Rations and pacing doesn’t exist
When you’ve got a werewolf heart That turns wild under a full moon. Once in third grade I stuck my fingers into sockets To see if misery had a color. And even through the several pages
of blues Of coloring books that I stole from
the grocery market Never compared to the color you
make me feel. You give me distant eyes and leave
me with shivering arms because even those with wild hearts feel color. I wear my loneliness the same way
you wear your pullovers Three sizes too big, because it
shrinks in the wash but mine never shrinks in the wash it just comes out as stretched out
and full of sorrow as it went in. you make me want to break every
plate in my cabinet smashing them against the wall listening to the sound of them shatter. so I will know what it feels like if I try to jump from my window
again. At night I sometimes want to fill my pockets with
bricks And go float in my grandmothers
pool To see how long it takes for my
lungs to sink to the bottom And fill with chlorine But then I remember That it wouldn’t be fair Because you never liked pools
anyways. When I cant fall asleep And its 2 in the morning I sometimes like to think if you’re
awake too Counting the stars that only exist
on my ceiling, drawing pictures of what you want
tomorrow to look like or just staring at the wall wondering how all those weak girls were able to break your little
heart. Or maybe your thinking of me And the several imperfections that
can’t be hidden on my face And all of the disgusting flaws in
my personality. When I think of you I think of the way your eyes look
when you say you’re tired And the way you comb your hair back
with your fingers
And the way your lips pronounce my name. © 2013 under-the-waterAuthor's Note
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StatsAuthorunder-the-waterin a box on the side of the rodeAboutAs a child I was constantly sticking my fingers in sockets and trying to figure out if grief had its own color. more..Writing
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