Reply To: Week 3 Posts – December 5th

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Hey Y’all,

Week 3 and ready for Buddy’s feedback. Sixteen year old me is screaming with anticipation. Not sure if I would have made it through High School without Buddy’s poetry. This piece was started around that time and I’ve been working on it ever since. I doubt I’ll ever consider it finished.

Pieces of the Sea

My father faced death for a living,
and that’s why my mother left.
He would spend weeks with the ocean,
some might call that an affair.
I never questioned his mortality
when he chose to battle the sea,
but I question it now.

I am a trauma center’s checklist,
every box has been checked off.

When I was nervous and straightening the silverware on my napkin,
you grabbed my hand and smiled.
If only I had known you were too nervous to let go.

I want to kiss the sunshine on your shoulder

You can taste the sweet-sour sadness in the early September air.
Summer’s residue.
The autumn sky is a prequel.

People break so easily in the winter.
Frigid and fragile like ice in a shallow puddle.
When everything is dead around us,
it becomes hard to feel alive.

An invisible string with infinite slack,
forever connected,
endlessly weaving our web of destruction.

My thighs get thinner this time of year.
I’ve forgotten the address of the apartment we shared.
You use to keep me breathing,
now you just keep secrets.

We haven’t spoken in four days.
Your bruises still pollute my skin.
You say you’re “no good” with pet names.
You only call me “baby” when you cum.

I know I’m getting older
because the thought of 4am gives me anxiety
and I don’t need you anymore.

There are parts of Vermont that feel like everywhere I’ve been
and everywhere I want to go.
Other parts feel a lot like a Stephen King novel.

He wants to hold my hand
for three hours
during his shitty action film.
He wants to fuck me
until he forgets how to pity himself.

When I left, our home became your apartment.
Our bed- your coffin.
Whiskey and second comforter.
Now, you only miss me
when the bartender tells you to go home.

The sea stones are stunning this time of year.
They are not picked over.