trouble
enough, jesus. go away. i’m just going to forget my prayers and sleep. call me next week, i have time on tuesday. maybe. maybe i’ll delete your messages, ignore your texts, trash your emails. you make trouble and you argue with the cops. you bring all kinds of people to breakfast, you never get the bill. you lead me down wet stairs and i fall. i have gravel in my knees. i’m tired and terrified of your next suggestion. yet then i’m remembering that overpass and how you dragged me back, your persistence lifting me from the bathroom floor. you make me want the morning. am i really ready to kick you out? i’m not sure. let’s talk tomorrow. tonight be quiet. sit here and put your hand over my hand. let me fall asleep and undream everything.
1 Comment
Mary Louise Hintz
2/4/2019 07:28:40 pm
I love this poem; the way you use words; words that touch me in the deepest recesses of my being.
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