Sun touched party goers sober up with coffee. Work slithering back between their shoulder blades.
Warm coffee coax chaotic thoughts into submission And non coffee drinkers submit to temptation.
Last night’s heavy doors become lighter As heavy legs drag themselves through.
Resurrected melodies, thought lost, bounce back into their heads. Retired dancers carry their spinning minds to breakfast.
You dropped your heart in my palms Then turned so pale I could see through you. So wet, slippery, and rhythmically trying To escape the cage formed by my fingers. You gave me more than you could afford. So the tab you ran, ran away from you. The love debt no millionaire could pay. But still you offered your heart to me, Hoping I could ease the pain. Never realizing it could only beat for you. Until you were halfway to the floor. Your heart a timer in my hand. Counting down from sixty to zero.
3 words That’s all we are given. But like that 150 word restriction, On the essay from French class, It wasn’t even half Of what enough would look like. 3 words Trampled mercilessly Many daylight saving ago. I speak manifestos Into existence Until my lungs fold Like origami. 3 words Can’t even contain only my description of your hands. In mine, they make me forget That Paper cuts and rough things Exist. 3 words A threshold because, given consent, I would never be able to stop talking Only to stop sleeping. Because every word I speak, five more Are added to the encyclopaedia of reasons 3 words Won’t cover it.
I belong here in this room. In the silence, in the dark. Where my opinions are the loudest And your whispers do not matter. This space between four walls, It’s my domain and no one else’s. You may knock, but there’s no door. Try to peak, but there are no windows. This room is my belonging. Poor outsiders’ be longing.
