the bed
i try to sleep, near the edge
as close as I can without falling
it was meant for two, not one
for us, not me
and lying there alone
i feel like a trespasser in my own house
it is not my place, and after fitful hours,
i fumble through the dark and find the couch
and settle for a tenuous sleep, my longings masked
by the noise of late night television
I could SO ace 10th grade poetry class. Happy St. Valentine's Day!
4 comments:
Ye're so far ahead of us over there in America, we've ages to go to our "Buy expensive cardboard or feel like crap day"
This poem is lovely, mournful and understated.
We're not there quite yet (another 10 hours or so), so the stragglers still have some time (I am exempt from the purchase pressure this year ... maybe next year).
And thank you for saying so.
Just think...you have another month to find someone to buy chocolate for!
(I like salted caramels)
Aside from the various grammatical errors...it's not...hideous.
The true treasure is in the anonymous comments, don't you think? They're few and far between, but well worth the wait.
*wicked smile*
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