Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
You won’t remember this but that time we sat on the steps of your cousin’s place in Brooklyn, Hewes St., one October night, where we stayed out and talked till three A.M., our fingers chapped, our noses tinged crimson. I remember it because you were cold and I gave you my jacket, the black one I’d only just bought the day before and you said wow, look at those goosebumps popping up along your arms, but sorry, I’m colder, I’m wearing this now. We’d been to see a concert at Madison Square Garden, and they were all there, Billy, Dave, Hayley, to celebrate your birthday five days early. They knew, you knew every single word, hurling them at the band like verbal snowballs, your hair a brunette blur, strobe lights in our eyes. We left with headaches bursting open as flowers, sweat trapped in my fringe. Dave was into you, did I ever mention that? He’s been to see you and sometimes speaks but he finds it difficult. We all do if I’m honest. Anyway, we took the F and then the J. By 11.56 we were tired but not quite tired enough. I was going to walk you home but we never left those steps. We looked up and down the street, said what cars we liked and why. A Honda HRV, avocado-green stood out to you, a hulking skeleton of metal I said looked ugly. You were lonely then. Any attention was guzzled up, I could tell. I rambled on so much it stopped sounding English but there was giggling, smiling, puffs of breath whirling away from us. You told me your only friend was your reflection in store windows. Surely not true. We all said that. Hayley told you to snap out of it but you didn’t know how to snap out. And when you rang on Friday morning we all should have listened, clutching our phones making sense of it all. Now you won’t remember and there’s blood on my wrist. that came from someone else.
0
Jul 20, 2015
Jul 20, 2015 at 2:42 PM UTC
The Night When
You won’t remember this but that time we sat on the steps of your cousin’s place in Brooklyn, Hewes St., one October night, where we stayed out and talked till three A.M., our fingers chapped, our noses tinged crimson. I remember it because you were cold and I gave you my jacket, the black one I’d only just bought the day before and you said wow, look at those goosebumps popping up along your arms, but sorry, I’m colder, I’m wearing this now. We’d been to see a concert at Madison Square Garden, and they were all there, Billy, Dave, Hayley, to celebrate your birthday five days early. They knew, you knew every single word, hurling them at the band like verbal snowballs, your hair a brunette blur, strobe lights in our eyes. We left with headaches bursting open as flowers, sweat trapped in my fringe. Dave was into you, did I ever mention that? He’s been to see you and sometimes speaks but he finds it difficult. We all do if I’m honest. Anyway, we took the F and then the J. By 11.56 we were tired but not quite tired enough. I was going to walk you home but we never left those steps. We looked up and down the street, said what cars we liked and why. A Honda HRV, avocado-green stood out to you, a hulking skeleton of metal I said looked ugly. You were lonely then. Any attention was guzzled up, I could tell. I rambled on so much it stopped sounding English but there was giggling, smiling, puffs of breath whirling away from us. You told me your only friend was your reflection in store windows. Surely not true. We all said that. Hayley told you to snap out of it but you didn’t know how to snap out. And when you rang on Friday morning we all should have listened, clutching our phones making sense of it all. Now you won’t remember and there’s blood on my wrist. that came from someone else.
Written: July 2015. Explanation: A poem written in my own time, deliberately kept quite simple. Not as good as I wanted it to be. Not based on real events - locations are used fictitiously. The names stem from Billie Joe Armstrong (lead singer of Green Day), Dave Grohl (Foo Fighters) and Hayley Williams (Paramore). All feedback welcome. Please see my home page on HP for a link to my Facebook writing page. NOTE: Many older poems will be removed from HP in the coming months.
reece-aj-chambers
Written by
33/M/English
Jul 20, 2015
Jul 20, 2015 at 2:42 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem