Spending all my time
Catering to your every
Need – what about me?
Category: Poetry
Some drink bourbon for the taste,
some drink it just to melt the pain away,
but bourbon is drank to get you fucked up.
You drink it like it was meant to be drunk,
And then you storm off and go listen to songs furiously,
like a fire under your undancing feet.
Pain inadvertently
Aching in my bones;
Not knowing
If I’ll ever be
Comfortable
Knowing how
Every flame licked at your soul,
Doors crumpled,
Your panic set in,
thoughts that must’ve been racing
through your injured mind,
The pain you left in your wake…
Why’d you have to go like this?
Prompt:Panicked
Harsh, white lights
A tightness in my chest
An overwhelming sad
Creeping in over my shoulders.
I try to change rooms
To avoid the oncoming panic.
Dark, empty bulbs,
The humming of a bathroom fan.
Slow, deep breaths
Not stopping the rush of thoughts
Hitting me like an oncoming train.
The red sun’s glow
Beating down as I
Run to my car in fear
That my shaking hands
And sobs will offend you.
Yellow, incandescent lights
Barely illuminating my dash
While I try to catch my breath,
Tears pooling in the creases on my face,
My heart beating out of my chest.
The oncoming darkness of dusk
Cuts through my windshield
As I sit in your driveway
Trying to soak up enough silence
To drown out my swelling panic;
Growing embarrassment.
Dim, fluorescent lights
Slowly revealed
As your garage door lifts.
An open door,
For when I’m ready.
Soft, pink lights
While I’m curled in a ball
At the foot of your bed
Taking comfort in your distant company,
Trying to ease my mind;
Trying to stop my worry.
Indigo and rosy lights
Swirled on the ceiling
Watching you rest,
Tension relaxed under my touch –
The only calm I can provide.
Prompt: Jolt
It’s all starting to
come apart, we aren’t as one –
what will happen now?
Prompt: Unravel
So you think it’s okay to
Add insult to injury,
Let things burn a little longer
Then they should? Let me leave.
Please excuse the constant flood of
Apologies; the emotions I keep from you, hidden
Under good deeds; the
Silence around what I want to communicate and what actually
Escapes my mouth.
Let me take a breath.
You may not want me the way
I want you, but at
least you are still trying to
help me, trying to put up with it.
Prompt: Pause
