while he hits my phone up
he's hitting her line,
ignoring my comments and
disregarding my jokes.
he didn't understand either to
begin with,
but his disregard is still concerning.
the glow of my phone lights
up the dark, dense room and I reach
for it, ignoring the time which
flashes in my eyes from my alarm clock
in a envious shade of dark green.
the window is closed and the door open
when I open his snap.
a half faced photograph taken
under the dim lights of what is probably
a college bar.
I look back to my bed and click my phone off.
even imbeciles must know
that games stop being played at
a certain age.written on: september 10th, 2020
YOU ARE READING
𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫
Poetryfor the people who taught me the things that no one else ever could: thank you. 🎓