The Mess Collective.

There He Was

In autumn there was a little girl,
in the morning she would make her bed
and brush her teeth.
She would walk to the park and play.
She would laugh, smile, and hug.
That is where she met Peter,
he would hold her hand,
tell her she was beautiful,
and kiss her cheek,
but she never spoke.
She would go home,
lay in bed and wish to the stars
that peter would always be there
and he was,
every day
every hour
every minute
every second.



In winter, there was this young girl,
In the morning she would wake up,
put on her make up, and leave.
She would go to the park and smoke,
She would inhale, cough, and laugh.
That is where she slept with peter.
He would hold her hand and tell her she was beautiful.
she blushed but never spoke, only moaned.
she would go home.
lay in bed and wish to the stars
that peter would always be there
and he was,
every day
every hour
every minute
every second.



In spring there was this young woman.
in the morning she would look at her phone,
put on her make up, and heels.
she would walk through the park and sit under the bridge.
she would roll that bill, sniff, and exhale.
that is where she fought with peter.
He would hold her hands, and tell her she was worthless.
she bruised but never spoke, only cried.
she would go to the hotel
lay with that strange man and wish to the stars
that peter would always be there
and he was
every day
every hour
every minute
every second.



In summer there was this old lady
In the morning she would take her medication
drink her coffee, and pick flowers.
She would walk to the park and sit on the bench
that is where she would smile, inhale, and exhale.
that is where she thought of peter.
where he gave her a ring and a promise.
she loved and finally spoke, I do.
she would go to the cemetery with those flowers,
lay next to peter and wish to the stars
that he would always be there
and he was
every day
every hour
every minute
every second.