half empty

I am busy drawing pictures

of someone I think I can be.


She is digging a home

behind my ribcage,

inviting her friends to a

mosh pit between my lungs.


I can feel her dancing to the left,

such a rhythmic beating in my chest

it’s almost comforting.


In bed I count the constant faltering

in my own breath, in between the

pity that is crawling from the

corners of my eyes,

she feels it,

starts up again,

climbs my insides like a ladder,

tells me to check the calendar

because this isn’t the

god damn nineties anymore,

no one is studying

the hush in my eyes.


You’ve outgrown your

corduroy shorts, girl

there’s a half empty

bottle of red wine

on the mantle now,

it’s keeping watch

over your sleeping past.


I am watching cars pass

from the window.


Every pair of

waving headlights

is a shaky revelation,

you are sun

you are heat lightning

you are

dusk in the graveyard


haunting, memorable stillness.


Filed under Writing

7 responses to “half empty

  1. Whispering Girl

    Fucking awesome.

  2. Great creativity on the human body figurative vibe, wow stuff!

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