Our Last Year
I miss the days Where we strolled around the field Watching as each piece of the new building Suddenly came together Huddling with shivers Because the weather sent chills Across our bare skin And our jackets Didn’t provide enough warmth I miss the days Where we silently sat in a library Swiftly grazing the letters of our keyboards Hearts thumping to the beat of our music Observing the rain pounding the glass And how the trees chaotically swayed Oblivious that our endless time Would somehow be ended I miss the days Where we sat at our unassigned but assigned table Conversations ranging from upcoming tests To laughter over reckless memories Sharing bits of food Shuffling a deck of Uno cards Contents of Sour Patch spilling onto brown napkins Watching a foolish show Savoring every single part Even the ridiculous ones I miss the days Where we sat in the back of a classroom Giggling at every little moment As if we were the only ones there Hands wrapping yarn over and over Until the pattern was engraved in our heads Then restarting And forgetting Here I sit Silently typing at nine in the evening Reminiscing these memories Attempting to recreate them Through useless words And unable to accept The fact that we never got to say Our proper farewells |
Repeat
7:55 wake up puffy-eyed because you cried yourself to sleep last night everything repeating repeating disgusted with the person in the mirror and for a moment you consider putting the thick untouched lotion on your peeling skin but what’s the point in taking the time on your complexion when you can’t even step out of the neighborhood and oh my god you’re going to be late throwing, ripping the papers across the lame excuse of a room don’t even bother throwing out the three-day-old chocolate milk off the desk body getting too warm nails pricking into your skin why is everything spinning? drowning in your own anxiety heart reaching your throat even the teacher comments “you seem drained today” “i can tell you don’t want to be here” “y’all didn’t get enough sleep” why does she say that every day? the lessons go in one ear and out the other eyes constantly betraying you stop stained with red bloodshot chair jagging into your skin the Shakespeare questions lay unfinished on your floor procrastinate you paint colors smeared all over the pallet your brushes creating a picture of the window in front of you the other side practically calling you the thin glass is the only thing separating us from reality somehow these days the trees look brighter the sky is somehow clearer the sun is smiling even the bees are flying colliding into my window they don’t terrify you like they did last spring instead, the creatures make you boil with jealousy as they fly so freely twirling in the golden sun i swear they are taunting me just like yesterday and the day before that and the day before that it’s dinner at nine-thirty the salivating aroma spreading from the kitchen second by second but “busy schedules” prevent you from sitting on the worn-down mahogany table with a coating with thick layers of dust an excuse for not needing to see each other’s faces more than already necessary so you stay up watching the same show under the covers slowly suffocating you the bright light from the screen burning your sockets watching till your eyes give up you stare at the stars on the ceiling glowing, the only source of light tears start running head throbbing everything blurry 7:55 wake up eyes puffy because you cried yourself to sleep last night everything repeating repeating |