OXYGEN

29 - Careful and Reckless

It was 7:32 P.M. I spent most of the day, reading poetry. At one point, I even tried to create my own poem but failed terribly. I couldn't seem to find the right words.

I roamed through the internet, awed by how many people were so capable of translating their thoughts and emotions into carefully-written verses.

You sit in front of me
This loud silence is taking us down
I've waited for months
But you still leave me lost instead of found

And you walk out the door first
You never look back
And my small, brittle heart
I hear it slowly crack

You like to read
But our story is a tragedy
I would give you all I have
Yet you still won't love me

And when words are left unsaid,
I'll be the one to lose my mind
While you go on, having the audacity to feel just fine

There are things we'll never understand
There are things we'll never have

But what if I want you to be an exception

So what if I want you

I heaved a breath. The creator of this poem was left anonymous, but whoever wrote it addressed it to an "N.G." I moved on to another one, feeling strangely weighed down.

Inhale the scent of my burnt-out wishes
Count how many you spilled gasoline on
Watch me crawl into the madness
It won't be long until I'm gone

Touch my cold hands and falter
You're going to wonder about me one day
But for now, you can keep loving her
Maybe I'm supposed to fade away

And I'll walk past you on purpose
I'll forget how to breathe
Aren't I something to miss?
Keep your tongue between your teeth

Turn around and go back
To the first time your eyes grabbed mine
August 18
You were the most enthralling thing I'd ever seen

But that was then and this is now
I don't deserve you at all
Too little, too much
Why did I have to be the one to fall

So if you want some insight:
Lock yourself in a room
Shut off the light
Beat your chest over and over
Let yourself choke on the night

And the bruises, the wounds?
They're not going to heal
Only then will you finally understand
How you've made me feel

I cleared my throat, finally leaving the website. I had come across tons of depressing poems before, but while I could gladly relate to them back then, now, it felt like I was on the outside, staring in. It was a bit saddening to get a taste of the pain some poets did their best to express. I couldn't imagine what they were experiencing, but God knew these strangers were dealing with some serious heartache.

Speaking of poets, I recalled Goal #3 and wondered how I would be able to get it done. In this town, there weren't many well-known poets; most were still trying to make a name for themselves. I'd been to a poetry slam twice in my life, but none of the performers reached out to me on a personal level. Far too often, I considered them too dramatic and too fancy with their words. I was waiting for the day I'd get to meet a poet who was both careful and reckless in their writing, someone who managed to whisper and scream a thought, a feeling, a story in just a few lines.

Opening up the search engine, I began looking for upcoming poetry slams and poets nearby. Unfortunately, there weren't any happening locally, but in a few weeks, there would be a competition in a place a dozen miles away. It wasn't a big deal, but it sounded a bit appealing. I scrolled through the details and soon figured that there would be no harm in attending. It was at The Moonlighters Auditorium on a Friday. There were a few special guests, but I didn't recognize any of them.

For a second, I wondered if I could take Forrest with me. Did he like poetry? I knew there were people who found it boring or too profound to comprehend, but perhaps he would be willing to give it a shot. I'd have to ask him sometime.

I exhaled noisily and then turned off my phone. The last time I'd spoken to him was earlier this morning and I had no desire to disturb him now. Besides, I was feeling rather fatigued due to not getting enough sleep.

I grabbed a pillow and hugged it, my eyes fluttering shut. Hopefully, there would be no nightmares waiting for me tonight.