“Every Time”
Staring at a clichéd love painting;
Watching people’s pair of shoe through the thick window;
Feeling a sting of pain attacking my very stomach;
Wanting to get out of here now.
Listening to everybody’s groaning,
I am daydreaming about love;
Wondering what it’s doing,
Wandering what it’s thinking instead.
Just a little bump with love,
Melting down like a sweet bar of umber velvet;
I am a twitting humming bird that doesn’t know how to sing;
Chocolate doesn’t know how to sing something else from love.
YOU ARE READING
My Odd Consciences
PoetryI wrote these poem when I was 13-14, I write a lot about how I was in pain, which in retrospect is not much. But at the time it felt like the end of the world :o
