i am not in the same bed i was in when i met you
nor is it the same bed i sat in
when i watched our relationship
fall between the cracks of my fingers
when i saw the sly smile
fall from my face
as i realized-
this isn't healthy
-i am in a new bed
with new sheets
new comforter
new meanings to old words
new feelings to old woes
new highs from old lows
- i focus too much on beds
i think it's because i
end every night
and start every morning
in the corner where the bed meets the wall
so why not maintain a basis of
some sort of symbiotic relationship
one that helps clear my thoughts
as i leave a dent of where i once slept in the mattress
my body's soft contours
on the rounded corners of this
hand-me-down dream
i like i said
am in a new bed
from the one i met you in
brought you in
but you
you're a new man
from how i met you
but still
an uneasy feeling in my gut
when you ask me on a date
because
old habits never truly die
and temporary messages
share fleeting emotions
i still tell myself i like you
because i do
im just afraid you won't like me
once you see me with my friends.
but this poem isn't about you
or even me
because somehow
it's about the passage of time
and how i can't comprehend
seconds into minutes
minutes into hours
hours into days
days into weeks
weeks into months
months into years
so i benchmark
with how many times
i confused lust with love
and the switching of rooms
i participated in
or the grades i got
because last week
felt like two months ago
and these two years
will feel like two eons
YOU ARE READING
The future has already past
PuisiWhile my mind urges me to write something more than I think I can be myself, I sit in my bed the light dimmed and music playing in the background trying to figure out why It's in this book that I will write more. I'm not even sure it matters. I'm...
