"crimescene" poems
i never really liked that new haircut
or the way you smelled like her perfume
or the way you looked at me
like you were a crimescene and i the criminal
i tried to talk to the monster under my bed
i grabbed its ankles and dragged it from beneath the mattress so i could study its features
it was your face i was staring at
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 6:16 AM UTC
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Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 3:29 AM UTC
what they don't tell you about grief is the after
the quiet after the news
sitting outside the front door
"I feel sick, I feel sick, I feel sick-"
Her shoes still where she left them
Her box of cigarettes untouched like a crimescene
what they don't tell you about grief is days after
where you'll wash your hair and need to stop every so often because you can't stop crying
Her clothes in the laundry basket that she put there don't smell like her anymore
and you sit there with a jacket pressed to your nose hoping for the faintest scent
what they don't tell you about grief is the messages she still gets on her phone
promotional texts about something or other
"Hello Name! We have good offers on-"
you'll find her shopping cards and wonder if you can still use them
She was your mom it can't be illegal right?
What they don't tell you about grief is that the earth still turns
the sun still rises
the world carries on
Jan 21, 2024
Jan 21, 2024 at 10:44 PM UTC