your room is hollow --
the floorboards creak
loud, like slamming doors,
like fighting, like the girls downstairs
that talk to you like you're one of them.
adjacent, another room;
adjacent, another breath; before you,
a promise, that idiot boy, you say softly
while a bottle breaks the surface
at your back --
question for question and
all the answers, mapped out;
you break a mirror, it's bad luck
you break his heart and it rolls off
like Atlas' burden;
he breaks your heart, but you knew it was coming.
that idiot girl, you say.
your hand,
like roots - dry, aching -
stretches out for something solid;
your eyes, like weakness, water.
YOU ARE READING
To Be Determined
PoetryBook 4 of seemingly endless poetry (or should I say possibilities?) Some poems are real life, some are not. Think before you assume.
