always there
inside the four corners of your own home,
memorizing everything,
always the same ,
always the same faces, the same clothes, the same view from the window just behind you,
is there nothing new?
people tell you to come,
it'll be fun, they said,
maybe it will be,
but your body just doesn't want to,
and so you miss out
on a happiness you're not entirely sure,
unfamiliar views, new people,
different stories and different laughter,
whose fault is it, anyway?
you stare at the four corners of your room,
a choice you made, by the way,
and now you angrily look above the clouds,
and see the plane slowly inching from the view just at your window sill,
when will it be me?
and now you cry,
but he's angry,
maybe hurt,
ultimately disappointed,
why are you projecting
the insecurity and failures on your part
onto him?
why can't you be happy for him?
why can't you?
YOU ARE READING
letters after dark | poetry book 3
Poetrya collection of poems and proses of thoughts that fill up the void after dark. #1 in proses #7 poetry #56 in poem #5 poetrycollection book 3 of the poetic flowers series. other books : • a hurricane of blues • confessions i will never say and other...
