I am stuck in the moment of time when
air refuses to fill my lungs
it feels a lot like drowning
above water
you see these conundrums
fill my palms like loose change
and I can’t seem to drop enough quarters into
the slot machine that is an attempt
at happiness
my smile put in his 2 weeks
8 years ago
and I’m still stuck waiting by the front door for him to come back
I’m still waiting for you to come back
like a postcard from a place I’ve visited too often
but never had the courage to visit a gift shop
I’ve been screaming at the man in the mirror
telling him to put on a ******* smile
like it’s a halloween costume
he is forced to wear everyday of the year
he can’t stand the arthritis on the clock
much too synonymous with his courage
he hasn’t had the ability to stand up to himself
since the day he fell of his bike
and tasted the burnt rubber on the asphalt
he can hear the earth sobbing to him off how the moon
continues to send him mixed signals
I can’t seem to swallow my pride
so I’ll fill up a bottle and sell it to the highest bidder
as if I am a ******* monument
of ‘ ******* it I should have said something’
There are too many suicide notes stuck on my fingertips
and my piano sounds a lot like a stomach full of butterflies
I can’t seem to differentiate between
mourning and morning
since the day I woke up smelling like a graveyard
9 years ago
I am a funeral soliloquy on repeat
and I can’t stand the ******* roses
and the ******* piano playing the butterflies that should have been dead years ago.