My thighs are bruised from your fingertips
Which have never actually touched my skin
But I grip my own cold body in the agony of your absence
And it's less of an absence and more of a never-presence
Like the school board that hasn't yet marked
The student who moved in late summer
So the teacher calls their name to an empty seat
Until they find out they were never coming in the first place
Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 9:54 PM UTC
My thighs are bruised from your fingertips
Which have never actually touched my skin
But I grip my own cold body in the agony of your absence
And it's less of an absence and more of a never-presence
Like the school board that hasn't yet marked
The student who moved in late summer
So the teacher calls their name to an empty seat
Until they find out they were never coming in the first place
