I think of quiet things
The way fog clings to glass against the cold
I think of cords struck high and low
and thick in rhythm
I think of All I Ask and Chasing Pavements and Hello
When I think of you
I think I have known you all these years
And sometimes not at all
I think of the way pages crinkle in their
corners in books too loved
And shelves of polished and darkened wood
wide like the distance between us
But just as full and just as rich
I think of how little you're willing to take away
Even when you must be wanting
~
When I think of you
I think of that extra whiskey glass you got me
Because I don't have to drink alone
I think of sad stories about lives we'll never
live with characters we want to write
And I think about years too long and too vast
To put down on paper for you here
(But I know that you have felt them too)
~
I think about the way I would miss you
I'd miss our little chats
And our dark humor with macabre flavor
I think about the parts of me that would be
Severed and detangled from me when you
leave or die or grow into other things
And that ache that will start in my stomach
And grow cold and vengeful into my bones
From losing a friend
I think about how I'd miss you like hell
~
I think about purposefully misplaced letters
in simple words
Because you are the funniest person I know
When I think of you
I think about beautiful things
About that burn in your gut from laughing
too much
Or the subtle way you listen to me
When my words are too sharp or too honest
For my skin to wrap around and they feel like
glass in my throat
~
I think about how you are my brother
And I'm not much of anything for you
But I'll take bullets and endure pain for you
Because that's something I can do
When I think of how you may suffer
What others may do to you
I taste metal on my tongue, acid in my stomach
Ready to strike
So when I think of you
I think of wars worth fighting
And a life worth living
And a man worth knowing
Because you are my best friend
And I hope there does not come a time when
I don't know you
These are the things I know
To be true
When I think of you.
YOU ARE READING
Dysphoria
Poetry"I dreamt I grew roots and sunk into deep earth, Where mud became my skin and dampened grains freckled my surface, I opened my mouth wide for the sprouting branches Leaf-speckled limbs And sunflowers blossomed from my eyes, Sunlight bled in waves, w...
