Chance Reeves
Stories (7)
Filter by community
Here, I made this for you.
You’re a ring I put on eighteen years ago and I just took off today. And my hand feels wrong, empty. I keep reaching for you. And if I think about it hard enough I can still feel the added weight. The cool metal against my skin. You’re that new hat I got for Christmas. I put you on and all day I am aware, aware, aware. What was I thinking? I’m not a hat guy. I can’t pull this off. You’re my car and you don’t run right but, hey, at least you get me places. At least we’re not stuck still. At least I have somewhere to hide. You’re my childhood bedroom and no matter how many times I change the paint and rearrange the furniture, you still feel the same. And when I hung up posters of that band it didn’t make me cooler and when I broke the bed trying to glue stars on the ceiling that didn’t make me uncool. You’re the stranger I think I might recognize. The best friend I haven’t spoken to since I was ten. The groove on my keychain I can’t stop running my finger over, the worst line in my favorite song, my best tea mug shattered on the ground, that scar I got ice skating, my cat bumping her head against mine, the pop in my ears during a thunderstorm, the school bell ringing at the end of the day. You’re a For Rent sign in my front yard. You are my body, but you are not mine.
By Chance Reeves3 years ago in Poets
