Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
rook Jun 2016
the realization hits.
all of the pictures that i drew of him
of me
of us
the pile that grows day by day
the way i treat only those i hold in the highest esteem

you are my default
and with the sad knowledge of the truth
i draw your face again.
i love him.
rook Jun 2016
it's uncomfortable.
i don't have room for him and her and him and me
i can't be anything more than i am
it
scares me
but i know
i remember
i can't
this
can't be happening
rook Jun 2016
b.
press your lips to
mine
we walk with our fingers laced enough, already
would it be so hard to sit on this bridge
watch the creek move slowly
and us move steady?

i woke up with the memory of softness in your eyes
and though i speak to you now it still feels like
goodbye
b
rook Jun 2016
it's not enough.

i'm tired but i push my nose to the grindstone
someone told me that's how
exfoliation works.

when i look into the bowl of cranberry grape juice and i see
no future
i guess i always knew i would amount to nothing.
stressing so ahrd
rook Jun 2016
sp
some day, i'll see your face and
it won't be revulsion that bubbles out of my mouth.

someday, i'll see your face and
it won't be hatred banging against my skull.

someday, i'll see your face and
it won't be brokenness that i feel.

someday, i'll see your face and
nothing will happen.
spencer; i keep seeing you and i can't wait for the moment when i don't ******* care
rook Jun 2016
school
i put pen to a page put fingers to keys and stretch my limbs
gotta get ready to run
for once i look back and think
this isn't cowardice
the words of my father bounce off of my second skin,
wasp-proof and kissing-safe
the realization that I could buy cigarettes and never smoke them
just because I can
i keep thinking about so many strings attached to me  attached to the words
eighteen
and then i think about
cutting them one by one
i am who i am
and i am nobody unless i want to be.
i don't have to do it unless i want to.
rook Jun 2016
last night i slept with him.

it wasn't intimate -
    at least, not in the way one might expect.
it wasn't skin against skin,
    the way some think it should be.
it wasn't soft conversation -
     (why am i the little spoon? because you're short as ****, that's why)
it wasn't kisses slipped between drowsiness.

last night i slept with him.

i didn't know he would be there;
as we crawled into bed, i settled down beside him
a familiar feeling
that i had forgotten.
brushing back hair, kissing the top of his head
all things brought back from long ago.

you know i missed you so much
but i didn't until i woke up the next morning
n.j.p; missed you. this poem is coming up a few days late.
Next page