Time is a rubber band
stretching this way and that-
thin and small, then
wrapping tighter around
my accusatory finger
Alone, and time is slow;
altogether too much of it stretches
ions into tomorrow
when I should, I should, I should
be doing (getting)
better, like it was something
you could catch:
a recipe, a derelict,
making contracts with myself
a lifetime of construction Continue reading “Relativity”
The day after we said goodbye
I waited for the tears to come;
though weeks were gone, I did not cry
the birds still sang and sun still shone-
I waited to forget your face
as weeks and months did fade away,
but still my strange heart kept its pace
and beat your name with every day.
Now that the years are marching on
I think I’ll mourn you, now and then
But you are never really gone
and with my thoughts, you’re here again.
Though hours to years to lifetimes grow,
I cannot seem to let you go.
“I’m just tired of living like a fucking nomad.”
I stopped trying to shove yesterday’s jeans into my work purse and exhaled frustration. He had lent me sweatpants again; because I had slept over again, because we saw each other post 9pm again, because it was the only time we could get together and I felt guilty if I only stayed an hour. Again.
“You can keep some stuff here, you know” he said, in the same way he always did.
“I know. But then I wouldn’t have it at home. I just hate carrying everything back and forth all the time, it drives me nuts.”
I just want to go home, hang up my sweater where it won’t get wrinkled, put my underwear in the laundry where it will stay and not revisit the same bra again six hours after I take it off. I just want to go home. Continue reading “Before the Break(up)”
*(I didn’t say no)
I was so, so hungry
and it was such a good drug for the pain
of carrying you on my sleeve;
because it was too good to be real,
too old to be new, a familiar habit-
Because I saw it coming and it was still a surprise,