I picked up the shards on the kitchen floor so quickly and
vacuumed the last remains glinting
at me from the hardwood so swiftly like if I worked fast enough I
might make negative time, like maybe when I finish my eyes might not even see the crash, I won't remember there are no longer
8 glasses in the cabinet I'll forget the feeling of my
shoulder knocking into the dooframe reflex-opening my
right hand like an arcade claw machine I could
almost grab it suspended midair like locking
eyes not breathing like catching
you like a butterfly like a
song I loved so sorely I wanted it to resonate my skull like a
giant hollowed tuning fork, knocking on your
dorm room door just to smell the smell of your things your navy
bedsheets your hair wax your striped socks your towels, lying
with you on beanbags, hearing my
heartbeat in my ears feeling it hot in my temples and pretending I
didn't
like when you left if I could
dismiss your magnetism pulling me as if I were a
violinist awash in floodlights on wooden concert stages beading sweat on my forehead from the gorgeous aching
weight of a symphony -- if I called it ordinary,
called it
gravity instead and I
split this universe in half spilling blood in the quantum reaction
and grew 6 years older and emotionally not at all,
if I got
undressed for everyone but you and sit alone in cars and
control rooms and office chairs and volleyball courts and
couches in an apartment I pay for, feeling nothing,
I won't
remember the shards like constellations on the floor and that now there are
7 glasses in the cabinet
Sep 9, 2025
Sep 9, 2025 at 12:54 AM UTC
I picked up the shards on the kitchen floor so quickly and
vacuumed the last remains glinting
at me from the hardwood so swiftly like if I worked fast enough I
might make negative time, like maybe when I finish my eyes might not even see the crash, I won't remember there are no longer
8 glasses in the cabinet I'll forget the feeling of my
shoulder knocking into the dooframe reflex-opening my
right hand like an arcade claw machine I could
almost grab it suspended midair like locking
eyes not breathing like catching
you like a butterfly like a
song I loved so sorely I wanted it to resonate my skull like a
giant hollowed tuning fork, knocking on your
dorm room door just to smell the smell of your things your navy
bedsheets your hair wax your striped socks your towels, lying
with you on beanbags, hearing my
heartbeat in my ears feeling it hot in my temples and pretending I
didn't
like when you left if I could
dismiss your magnetism pulling me as if I were a
violinist awash in floodlights on wooden concert stages beading sweat on my forehead from the gorgeous aching
weight of a symphony -- if I called it ordinary,
called it
gravity instead and I
split this universe in half spilling blood in the quantum reaction
and grew 6 years older and emotionally not at all,
if I got
undressed for everyone but you and sit alone in cars and
control rooms and office chairs and volleyball courts and
couches in an apartment I pay for, feeling nothing,
I won't
remember the shards like constellations on the floor and that now there are
7 glasses in the cabinet
I dropped a water glass at 8pm and couldn’t shut up about it now it’s 1am and I have to wake up for work in the morning
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