i’ve lived along the wrong
traintracks,
half a chromosome off
from the abandoned ivy
school i would have
attended, had i been
led by what i’ve been
looking for.
nobody really knows me here.
it takes a special type of person
to read the tea leaves in
the bottom of the mug I
leave to dry.
and this still stands:
i don’t know how to share the air still
trapped in my lungs.
because air doesn’t mean much
if it is not being swallowed as a
last chance.
and i know i’ll be able
to leave isolation behind
and write a poem to
live in
Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 8:44 AM UTC
i’ve lived along the wrong
traintracks,
half a chromosome off
from the abandoned ivy
school i would have
attended, had i been
led by what i’ve been
looking for.
nobody really knows me here.
it takes a special type of person
to read the tea leaves in
the bottom of the mug I
leave to dry.
and this still stands:
i don’t know how to share the air still
trapped in my lungs.
because air doesn’t mean much
if it is not being swallowed as a
last chance.
and i know i’ll be able
to leave isolation behind
and write a poem to
live in
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