part i
there is no wish like
the wish for people
no disappointment
like those who never come
like christmas, years ago,
waiting for a knock at the door
"he'll be there around 1"
they said to me
"make sure you're home"
and so i waited for the knock
and opened my door
not to a man, but a mattress,
a gift without presence
(the irony of all cruel
ironies)
the wish for people
no disappointment
like those who never come
like christmas, years ago,
waiting for a knock at the door
"he'll be there around 1"
they said to me
"make sure you're home"
and so i waited for the knock
and opened my door
not to a man, but a mattress,
a gift without presence
(the irony of all cruel
ironies)
part ii
and i think about that now,
the disappointment,
seeing you last night
in the middle of sleep:
coming home from home
to spend our holy day
(the new year)
together
i wake up on that same,
once new mattress
and i think about that now,
the disappointment,
seeing you last night
in the middle of sleep:
coming home from home
to spend our holy day
(the new year)
together
i wake up on that same,
once new mattress
alone
(the irony of my
ironies)
(the irony of my
ironies)
still waiting for you
part iii
bleary-eyed
i reach for my glasses
i reach for my glasses
and wait for the world
to focus
in
i have waited my life away
4 comments:
that last sentence is a doosie. this one is sad and longing. beautiful
yeah, well, fuck. then remember how damnit much you liked them both once.
not kids anymore. never thought you would be like the people in the books. it was always romantic when it was them. now it's just waking up and not thinking about where you hid the gun from yourself.
Oh oh, maybe it's time for a little visit with the shrink? A little Zoloft maybe. Gut wrenchingly depressing, which I suppose is a good thing for a heart break poem.
I echo disgruntled world citizen in praising the final line.
An emotion was communicated. I felt it. I then got up to walk around; shaking it off.
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