Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Feb 24
I saw you on a bench in my new upscale neighborhood
muttering unintelligibly and I
walked on by, pretending I hadn’t seen you
wondering if you’d recognized me even with your poor vision the way you do sometimes because you know my shape and the hot pink of my favorite sweatshirt

We aren’t in the beach now
where love and wine and money flow freely and music is the official language
no, this is the real world where I’m a loose feather floating up and away on the breeze you’re an apple that’s fallen to the earth

If only I had sat for a moment
I meant for this to be in sickness and in health
I thought I was better and you were worse but my eyes shifted quickly away from your silhouette so now I know we’re both suffering from separate forms of the same illness
I’m sorry
Written by
Elisa Cinelli
Please log in to view and add comments on poems