he calls her Tee
and that's what she calls herself
sorry, called herself
past tense happiness, past-tense joy, past- tense smiles.
past tense like a tsunami: sudden, quick, melancholia.
hits her now that she can't see him again
she lost not a lover
but half her heart
still thumps to the low creak of half shut doors in the dark
somewhere lodged between ribs and lungs
somewhere between missing and fear
or both
cannot see him again
cannot talk to him again
cannot brush fingers again
cannot seek warmth in the curve of a neck
bland is the world, through her eyes
she doesn't care much
anymore
do what you will,
didn't you say,
she's a whore ?
9.9.16
YOU ARE READING
Tasting Hearts
PoetryPoetic gibberish from a teenage logophile where a girl writes what her fingers tell her to on the skeleton of rhyme, rhythm and reason.
