I think it's time I've thrown off this old tee
Imbrued and tattered from events, which
never really mattered
If only hindsight had been shy of your fuck-ups,
huh?
And this watch.
You know rare metals were never my style
Do you honestly think its arm carried
even a second of our time?
It inched only so much as yours did
Here's a good one: My sun hat
Mothballed. Cheapened to a straw skeleton since
our trip to Bermuda last summer
We argued with such perennial nerve that
I retreated undersea to blink away your sting
Discarding cold logic into the box 'neath my bed, I judge
all as apt sacrifices for the worm nestled in your thoughts
I know I'll be unscathed post-ritual, but you—
would you like to hazard a shot?
YOU ARE READING
A Meaningless Collection
PoetryA collection of variously themed poems that I write mostly on my commute to class or when I can't find a reason to fall asleep.
