eleven in the morning,
shoulders hunched over,
thinking don't let it -
it doesn't work.
a little text,
that's all there was.
because i'll be there soon.
the ocean was rising ,
the words didn't seem to mean anything,
the waves raging their tide in my stomach- make it stop.
a knock on the door.
you're here.
you're here.
two hours,
holding me close,
that's all you got-
i really needed it.
i really, really needed it.
four miles in the rain,
on an old bicycle.
you're an idiot.
the waves are calm.
because i love you.
YOU ARE READING
philophobia
Poetryit isn't always as it seems. first breaths of love, first breaks of hearts, first year. October 2013 - May 2015
