Leave a comment

March 19, 2020 by thewashingteenian

By apollosbones, Staff Writer


I hear your call,

I hear my name being

questioned above my head,

I hear the music blasting.

I hear my uneven breath.


Yet here I sit; still.

Still on the tile floor,

back pressed against the door,

shaky hands tangled in the bath mat .


The party isn’t over,

I remind myself that

I’m wanted in a place

I don’t want to be.


Baby, you should know

that you are the one

who doesn’t want yourself.

Why don’t you want you?


You don’t want you

to be happy, honey

it’s you that doesn’t want

you to thrive.


Take a dive

off the deep end,

love, you’re going

to be alright.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: