Wednesday's are perpetual tears
The crushing weight of either side of the week
Never ahead
Never even caught up
Not tight enough
Not smooth enough
Not quick enough.
Never enough and never as much as yesterday
Always reaching backwards to grip onto what I was
While walking forward,
And maybe upward
Synthesize parts of me
Take what you like
And find a way to fake it, but better
But with more grip
But with less voice
But with less warmth
But with less bite
Less pride and arrogance
Pen to paper isn't enough anymore
Me, warm and as giving as I can be, isn't enough
Not even enough to give to the mattress and blanket
Sleep on the floor
Away from disappointment and stiff bones
Wednesday's are the constancy of the understanding
I am constantly walking in clothes that are too big
Even for my body, too big
Wednesday is bad but it isn't as bad as Sunday.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Journal Uploaded
ŞiirThis is a digital copy of my physical poetry and prose journal. While it is meant simply to be a backup, I sincerely hope that you enjoy reading what you find in here! This journal goes back almost two years now so I hope I have improved, and I thin...
