*shut the **** up and stop pretending that anyone cares*,
but of course i already knew that already. it’s what you say
when you tease me and yell at me and when you throw a box
of tissues across the room. ******** because i’m as full of it
with my niceties as you are strutting in your oil-stained boots
and old-lady fur coat. you care as much as i do, and yet you laugh
at me for hating times new roman, and yes, i hate it as much as i hate
not thinking for myself. i’d rather have a blank page of unheard thoughts
but you, you don’t even know. i write what i like until the page overflows
while your unbrushed teeth fill with unfiltered words until the dam breaks
and it’s **** you and your ******** so i sit helplessly on the corner of your bed,
listening to you cry before reading your poetry. i awkwardly caress your arm
and squeeze your bitten fingernails. i sit in the silence that i wish would fill
with expectation, but it only fills me with the rawness of what you and i
have become, stripped to some naked vulnerability until everything
you never say leaves me grasping for more.
May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 3:47 PM UTC
*shut the **** up and stop pretending that anyone cares*,
but of course i already knew that already. it’s what you say
when you tease me and yell at me and when you throw a box
of tissues across the room. ******** because i’m as full of it
with my niceties as you are strutting in your oil-stained boots
and old-lady fur coat. you care as much as i do, and yet you laugh
at me for hating times new roman, and yes, i hate it as much as i hate
not thinking for myself. i’d rather have a blank page of unheard thoughts
but you, you don’t even know. i write what i like until the page overflows
while your unbrushed teeth fill with unfiltered words until the dam breaks
and it’s **** you and your ******** so i sit helplessly on the corner of your bed,
listening to you cry before reading your poetry. i awkwardly caress your arm
and squeeze your bitten fingernails. i sit in the silence that i wish would fill
with expectation, but it only fills me with the rawness of what you and i
have become, stripped to some naked vulnerability until everything
you never say leaves me grasping for more.
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