is lonely in a look?
In a Sunday afternoon
Lingering waiting for your returned envelope
Stamped and ready to open
Yet my steps toward the mailbox is stifling
A broken mailbox, a cut phone line
Like my endless walk to the coffee machine, that word stuck in my throat like bad peanut butter as each syllable runs through my heart beat,
Lon-li-ness, each step is in my downcast eyes. Down.
To make my own solitary cup I drink alone though I made two
Yes, loneliness is longing in a look
At a rose colored park
When your spine is crushing against your back
And your sighs feel like death
Why must I have my solidarity and my quiet moments stuck next to pitch-ether choking air,
He wants me to stay
But not for us
For his own thwarted loneliness.
As Jennifer from The L Word said,
"Oh, fuck off, Mark. It's not my job to make you a better man, and I don't give a shit if I've made you a better man. It's not a fucking woman's job to be consumed and invaded and spat out so that some fucking man can evolve."
I spat out the bad peanut butter, all over your white sheets,
Drowning like the syrup you poured over my face and my hair, a messy finger paint you can’t pay for
Cloaked by you, you made me feel like invasion is a price to pay for survival.
About the Creator
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Comments (1)
I loved the quote from Jenny. Was someone watching The L Word recently? Now I have to go back and re-watch everything. 😂 That last line really stuck with me.