Poem on Saturday: An old forest fire

I have a midterm on thursday, but i’ll come over tomorrow

what are you doing

did you remember August?

They said you’ll never see him again, the voices

yeah fuck that,

i’ll see him tomorrow.

what are you doing

i’ll stop everything I’m doing, will

you let me tell you that you fucked it up?

that day we napped, kissed, tensions built up walls along my skin,

cement that cracked with skin and skin, and cement

and lips cracked too, open, my blood fell onto your eyes,

did they bleed too? or did you think I could trust —

coldly bruised, i knew that you’d hit me up 2, 3, 4, 8 months later.

with a couple of girls, yeah you remembered me most.

my blood stained your eyes, you felt my skin the other day,

Didn’t you?

you think it’s ok to leave things unresolved, tangled up, leave your necklaces wound up,

Leave your people and tell them tomorrow, or 8 months,

What’s the difference anyway.

what are you doing,

her tight ass, yeah you fucked her too, huh.

I saw you holding hands on Valentines Day, she’s your girlfriend?

i doubt it.

You can’t commit for shit, I know you mostly.

but i know that she’s hot, and you like heat,

reminds you of blood, my kisses on the windowsill,

when you yelled at me, “do you know how much it hurts, Brianna?”

yeah, i’ve been feeling it for months,

you didn’t ask though.

But you remembered, and you thought about it for a second,

math is the only thing you’ll ever love, i know that.

we know that.

I look at you and understand your brain, and i’m not mad,

but don’t fucking pretend,

don’t tell me you’re doing well,

You’re fucked up, will

you let me go?

doubt it.

 

**

B