I.
When you sleep
your spine curls
like a question mark
and there's always
too much space.
II.
You lay alone,
belly down on your bed.
You can't breathe
and you don't mean
to but you cry out,
arms wrapped around
your body,
clutching your sides.
You fall apart.
III.
You want to scream.
You want to scream
because it hurts.
You're empty
and everything aches.
You're tired of trying
and waiting and
waiting and waiting
and always
going to bed alone.
IV.
It is a never-ending prayer.
In the back of your mind,
it plays like a soundtrack.
Please, please, please, please.
V.
They say it happens when
you least expect it.
You wonder if you can
use reverse-psychology
on the Universe.
VI.
You'll fall in love
with every man
who looks at you
without turning away.
Every touch
from any stranger
electrifies you.
You still feel it
three
days
later.
VII.
You write letters
to the Universe.
Sometimes you're
angry but usually
you're just broken.
You're always asking
why?
Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 3:41 AM UTC
I.
When you sleep
your spine curls
like a question mark
and there's always
too much space.
II.
You lay alone,
belly down on your bed.
You can't breathe
and you don't mean
to but you cry out,
arms wrapped around
your body,
clutching your sides.
You fall apart.
III.
You want to scream.
You want to scream
because it hurts.
You're empty
and everything aches.
You're tired of trying
and waiting and
waiting and waiting
and always
going to bed alone.
IV.
It is a never-ending prayer.
In the back of your mind,
it plays like a soundtrack.
Please, please, please, please.
V.
They say it happens when
you least expect it.
You wonder if you can
use reverse-psychology
on the Universe.
VI.
You'll fall in love
with every man
who looks at you
without turning away.
Every touch
from any stranger
electrifies you.
You still feel it
three
days
later.
VII.
You write letters
to the Universe.
Sometimes you're
angry but usually
you're just broken.
You're always asking
why?
Trying something new. Just a draft.