call me at 3am and
tell me that you are sad and
how you feel like the world can be suffocating some times.
tell me who broke your heart
tell me why you still love them.
tell me why you hate yourself and
why you hate the world.
tell me that in second grade you embarrassed yourself and that you can't stop thinking about it.
tell me why you love that show and
how you cried when that character died.
tell me all these intricate details that make you, you.
i will listen and nod as if you can see me and
i'll try to understand and
i will listen to your breathing as you fall asleep
and once you have lifted all that off of your chest
i will fall back asleep,
knowing that i was someone you trusted enough when you were wide awake, that your sleep deprived self thought of me.
YOU ARE READING
Motel
Poetrywhat is a book other than a motel where I check my thoughts in and you check them out? a collection of poems I wrote but never published.
