But to them, it was a massacre.
Like to you, it's just holding hands.
But to me, I've uncrossed my heart, unhoped to die.
Because to you, it was just asking my middle name.
But to me, I was telling you the truth. Like telling you what my voice feels like against my throat or whether or not I collect butterflies and if I sleep with the window opened or closed.
There is something about you that matters. You make me matter you make things matter you make this matter.
You double knot your shoelaces as if sealing fate. You order your drink on the rocks like it's a shout of vengeance to the cold hearts on Main. And your headlights across my driveway look like ghosts just trying to find their way home.
Thank you for passing me the pepper tonight because it felt like world peace met a 1950's Valentino all on my baked potato alone and for the 4 seconds I sprinkled that Aphrodite-like Pepper, you gave us this 3rd space in time that only you and I can visit when you ask me my middle name while I sprinkle pepper and make my voice feel like Niagra Falls down the inside of my throat.
You wait for my answer like admiring rainwater seeping into the flower beds.
- tara j
You're truly amazing. I'm constantly in awe of your poetry. I seriously wish I could write like you. TARA FOR PRESIDENT 2032.
ReplyDeletewhoa.
ReplyDeleteI don't understand like any of this but at the same time I get this in my stomach. #poetry
ReplyDeleteHoly
ReplyDelete"And your headlights across my driveway look like ghosts just trying to find their way home."
ReplyDeleteI'm freezing and it's the middle of summer.
Again, my jaw is on the ground. Which is embarrassing because I'm at work. This is being human on the expert level.
ReplyDelete