original poem by m.rain
Ode to Thursday
Thursday has a song
Which sounds like
Vomit in a dirty bathroom.
Wet cigarettes pressed into antique hardwood
And you're sitting there with your hair tied up,
Puking out
The tequila.
Thursday was always the first day of the week
You didn't have to get drunk alone. Thursday says,
It's okay to drink today.
Thursday nights always turn into
skipping Friday classes turns into
Failing your Friday classes.
Tending to your wounds alone
You don't remember who walked you home
But hopefully they didn't touch you
Oh -- God
Thursdays the 12th before
The 13th. You don't chase
your shots because you don't need to
you can't taste them.
You can't explain how you felt
You don't remember.
Thursdays you lay awake very late chasing
old habits away.
Thursdays whisper to you in Friday morning
Photographs. In loud street music at 2 am.
Thursday nights send you back to foreign hallways
And betrayal thick enough it has become a blanket.
Thursdays are too much of your skin
Taking up so much space.
The week has been so long
And you are so tired.
Thursdays smell like mid-autumn
Rainy October midnights
Spent stumbling into
Whatever arms were open to make the catch.
Thursdays are just the start to the weekend
The gunshot which sets the pace
But it's so early
And you are already half-asleep
In the wine-colored
Bathroom.
Somebody will love me someday.
Thursday sings me to sleep,
In echoes,
The music thumping off the cavernous walls
Lasts into the next morning.
When you wake up on the floor,
Nobody has walked you home.
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A Bundle of Lavender: Poetry Collection
الشعرA bundle of lavender is the collection of my poetry that I hope to publish for real someday. I will continue to add to this as I work my way through my notebooks and type my poems (they all begun handwritten, afterall.) Enjoy!
