Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 2017
I keep having dreams about you holding her hand. Somehow I’m standing right in front of you but its like your looking through a pane of glass; sharp and see through, like there’s nothing left but your reflection. It’s always been about you; I knew that. But when you held my hand I thought you could read my skin like a page covered in brail.

I keep kissing him and remembering the way your hands traced my face. The moon left us in the dark, searching for the sun’s warmth. He made me feel like a piece of art, watercolors bursting from a canvas but he left me to hang on the wall.

I keep thinking that it’s better this way, but when I took out the trash I felt just like the aluminum can as it clattered to the floor. Empty and used. Nothing but traces of drunken fingerprints against a label that no one cares to remember. Memories rising to the back of your throat only to be swallowed down like a pill you take to cover up all the places where you’ve been broken.

I forgot that loving you was like pouring a bowl of cereal and then running out of milk
Jen Grimes
Written by
Jen Grimes  Burlington, Vermont
(Burlington, Vermont)   
   Nick Feetchi
Please log in to view and add comments on poems