Even in this new life, the past clings to me. Your likeness follows in strangers' faces, passed on sidewalks increasingly casting shadows on otherwise
By Kay Husnick2 years ago in Poets
In the end, I am glad I still have you for all the bad memories, the list of reasons we did not work together, the ways we messed each other up,
Summer heat, sticky sweet sweat we sat in the park trying to force an appetite do you remember like I do? pre-concert diner sandwiches, watching spiders on the wall before the show
Fire follows me everywhere car fires, apartment fires, laundry room fires igniting nearby until I wonder if I'm throwing off sparks
He doesn't get me like you do, that innate understanding of being the same at our cores. Differences are fine, but some things are fundamental
I want to spend my time writing, but I get off work at 5 and have to make dinner I could order delivery, but that's $30+ and the potatoes on the counter are starting to sprout so I really should use them now
A woman at my local subway station was pushed onto the tracks She survived, but she lost her feet * A man pushed his girlfriend onto the tracks at my local subway station
Do you see the irony yet? Your need for hyper-independence moved you right back home, 400 miles away from me and all the help you didn't want,
How am I supposed to tell you how I feel when I look at you and can't get a word out? With those curls hanging down over coffee-colored eyes and the way you look at me,
Can I be your mystery girl? Aloof and unpredictable, but somehow also kind just enough to keep you interested keep you wanting more
I want a rooftop love, the kind I can shout about no strict limitation to whispers of "I love you" in the dark, despite the words you say in public
That day is burned into my brain. I get off work, open the door to our apartment, and you slur "hello." Your face struggles to make a smile. You never quite get there, and your eyes do not make it to mine.
