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This poem is about being OK with being alone. |
I feel you swimming in my blood If I opened my wrists, you would be the flood It’s well past the witching hour When all that is sweet turns suddenly sour When you go away I learn how to detach I listen to records until they are scratched When you make me mad I don’t go atomic I pick up a book or I read my comics There are plenty of things for me to do When you’re going through what you go through I can play the kazoo or learn kung fu Fly somewhere cool and get a tattoo There are tons of theories I buy into And all sorts of cracks that I fall through There’s a haunting sense of déjà vu When things aren’t going so well for you I have a plan for every time this ends I go to the movies with all my good friends I had a dream for promises you can’t keep I toss and I turn but I catch up on sleep There are plenty of things for me to be When you’re off sailing the deadliest of seas I can be artsy or even somewhat pretty I can break even or win the lottery There’s tons of hope for a love amputee Even those burned to the third degree There’s a broken lock with a skeleton key With the right magic words, doors open for me I go walking into the dark While you’re off wrestling demons and bad word sharks It’s too late for me to turn back I curtsy and bow as your world fades to pitch black |