I’ve been here before
inside these loops,
the tightening walls
of these thoughts so familiarly
textured,
rippling
further away
by the second.
I’ve been here before
stuck in the past,
re-gathering my feelings like
tiny shards of glass,
trying to stand
upon weakened legs
and go again.
You were here before,
when the light of day fled
in anticipation of pains unknown.
You tried to complete the puzzle,
became frustrated,
then I watched you go.
I’ve been here before,
stuck in this queue,
thoughts and feelings
hectic and confused,
the sky red,
the healing baby blue.
It’s a pass on the plaster,
these scars cannot be seen,
cannot be covered or corrected,
must be coveted,
and felt.
I’ve been here before,
tried running but the surroundings
moved too,
nothing to gain but holes in
my shoes
and the heels of my socks
and bloodied feet.
I’ve been here before,
the cycle fierce and unrelenting,
stuck like a fly beneath a glass,
stuck like a fly beneath a glass,
stuck like a fly beneath glass.
I think I’ve been here
before.
About the Creator
Reece Beckett
Poetry and cultural discussion (primarily regarding film!).
Author of Portrait of a City on Fire (2020, Impspired Press). Also on Medium and Substack, with writing featured… around…
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More stories from Reece Beckett and writers in Poets and other communities.
Comments (3)
I love that you repeated the line:stuck like a fly beneath a glass. It really empowered the message. I can relate so much. How many times we run the same circle for someone who doesn't even appreciate us....
Oh and spectacular poem btw. I felt that the fly was me tbh ...stuck, and there before, and there again
It felt crazy and paranormal for a second. I just finished lsitening to that cover that british/indian guy did with his mum of Creep by Radiohead, so as I was opening the poem, one of the phrases in my mind was...