Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
my feet felt far away but they were where they’d always been. my hands were gone, that i knew. my hands were with your hands in the pockets of your creased black trousers somewhere in your mother’s house. i walked right out, high tides rushing up my spine, until i found myself submerged in a sudden plan to never speak to you again. i forgot all versions of you, the slow of your smile, your shape next to my shape. i forgot myself, intermittently, and bruised my way to a beginning, stretched so long, so thin that it disappeared entirely. how tired. how tired you became at loving. you said, i need to trim this ingrown soul of mine, twenty times, and i shook wildly, remembering, but trying not to; you were the one who left, not me. in a public toilet: i find remaining parts of you, of me, resting gently on my cheeks. i make a wish, blow them away. and i think, *i knew someone once, he could retell his dreams like well-thought-out novels, his eyelashes reminded me of stars, his silence was a heavy drone.*
0
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 3:20 PM UTC
your sounds of silence (a heavy drone)
my feet felt far away but they were where they’d always been. my hands were gone, that i knew. my hands were with your hands in the pockets of your creased black trousers somewhere in your mother’s house. i walked right out, high tides rushing up my spine, until i found myself submerged in a sudden plan to never speak to you again. i forgot all versions of you, the slow of your smile, your shape next to my shape. i forgot myself, intermittently, and bruised my way to a beginning, stretched so long, so thin that it disappeared entirely. how tired. how tired you became at loving. you said, i need to trim this ingrown soul of mine, twenty times, and i shook wildly, remembering, but trying not to; you were the one who left, not me. in a public toilet: i find remaining parts of you, of me, resting gently on my cheeks. i make a wish, blow them away. and i think, *i knew someone once, he could retell his dreams like well-thought-out novels, his eyelashes reminded me of stars, his silence was a heavy drone.*
i intended for this to be messy. i may re-draft it sometime.
unblo0ming
Written by
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 3:20 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem