PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

the pillow caves in around my head

from all this time spent wrapped in bed.

it's not that i'm sad anymore.

i'll even go so far to say

i'm getting better. 

but the hole left needs to be filled

and all that i gather is static.

so what difference is it really?

i reread books and poems

i've collected over the years

and eliot was right about the mermaids

and april is the cruelest month.

i let some old habits fade

and now i've lost my connections

so i guess this healthy me is here to stay.

but what i wouldn't do 

to get sucked up in the blue

i knew so well at twenty. 

that turned years into minutes

and every awful person

into someone i could understand.

to be the one they're waiting on

and to know i'm not alone

even though i'd never show.

i could be lured out with the sweetest tune

and we'd all end up in my room

with bodies humming wall to wall

and soft brown hair in my lap.

i'd be held all through the night

by the one who saw a light in me

and the one who was almost right.

but rent was up in late july

and everything fit into a suitcase

to be brought back up north

where everything was quiet.

now i'm old, i'm old, the trousers rolled

and eliot was right.