Thursday, November 22, 2012


why does stepping out 
on a sunny day
feel like walking under drops of plastic rain 
and the air like sheets of glass
and water running through me
like with its jagged shards

why do i think of you
why do i think
that coming to you
would take that all away
make it all okay

why does
your blanket
feel like home
and the one on my bed
in my room
holds no warmth

why does the soft dim yellow light
in which your room basks
make the light that i hear
as i sit in what was my corner
seem like a thousand
angry agitated
shouting at me

why do i think of you
when they do

why do i think
that if you'd put your arm
around my chest
or let me put mine
around your waist
just by doing that
you could make this cacophony
petter down