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in the sitting-room.


i  can taste you sometimes,
during slow evenings when
time stretched over us like a
dense sleeping bag;

i can feel you then.

all your worries hovering,
like fruit flies.

that’s when everything in me
wants to hold you, and slap you
at the same time;

god. i don’t even know if i love you,
just that i’m supposed to.

it works that way,
and i lie here in this corner
confused, confused, confused until

the corners bump into my soul
and squeeze into my laugh.

i draw scars where your smile
burns on me.

Author notes

ugh.

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Comments

1 - 6 of 6

  • broken-colours
    March 10, 2009
    Edit | Reply
    stop saying ugh.
    everyone's telling you you're good.
    believe them? maybe?

    :]


  • chloris
    January 15, 2009

    Edit | Reply
    that’s when everything in me
    wants to hold you, and slap you
    at the same time;---> this is "fucking good". i will tell you why i liked this...
    this has a poetic essence, it is not just a rant it's also a poem which shows the vitality of lovelikefrustration. i can tell how that feels like.


  • tara wilson gold member
    January 14, 2009

    Edit | Reply
    i'm with everyone else, this is awesome...i found you on divebar's page - excellent similie.


  • nutmegg
    January 14, 2009
    Edit | Reply
    i ditto divebar.


  • flight
    January 14, 2009
    Edit | Reply
    i love it, it's so truthful.
    peace to all ~flight


  • divebar
    January 14, 2009

    Edit | Reply
    ok. you need to go buddy up with quixotically yours, because you two are probably the most underrated poets on this site. this is just fucking stunning.

1 - 6 of 6