The Downlow

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austin, texas, United States
aspiring writer, English and journalism student, hails from Texas. likes include writing, coffee, books, whisky and people.

Saturday, March 26, 2011

I tried to tell you but all I could say is

Things I wish I could say out loud-

At the end of the day,
this desk where I’ve written
thousands of words for you
and everyone else who I love
and hate and need,
who make my words explode,
is not important. Neither is the tree
I watch outside, leaves sifting lightly
in the 5 mph winds on a beautiful day,
nor the blocked-off balcony I dream
of sitting on, sipping coffee and scribbling
into the small leather notebook I keep
hidden in my pillowcase at night.
The drawings on the wall,
gifts from a best friend who no longer calls,
and the $2.43 in my bank account
to get me through the next two weeks
are irrelevant, the silence
of the room save for the sounds
of my roommate studying and
speaking less and less to me
each day are not what I think about
before I fall asleep at night.
I do not care about the bio-dad,
why he never called like I know that he promised,
like I know that he wanted to,
what he might be doing,
sipping gin on a beach in Jamaica,
starving on the streets of New York City,
lying in his grave or maybe,
trying to find me, maybe just out of reach,
imagining the different people I could be and
wondering if we’re anything alike,
and the thought of a mother,
something I stopped reaching for years ago,
will never, ever cross my mind again.
I will ignore the hospital bills sitting untouched
in the postbox downstairs
that no one has enough to pay,
just like I will forget why they’re there
in the first place. When I drift off,
all that I see anymore is a park by my house,
swings and a playground set.
I feel light heat on my back and I dream
of a job serving pizza for $7.25 an hour
that I would freeze time to stay at,
seeing you laugh through the secret passageway
from the front counter to the cut-station and
knowing that you were smiling because of me,
and I remember vividly the look in your eyes,
calling me "sheltered" and watching me fumble
over parmesan cheese containers and
the moment I knew that maybe, if I let myself,
that I could fall in love with you.
I am still checking my phone
to feel my heart jump whenever I see
your name on the screen,
and I am imagining sitting on my
blocked-off balcony, sipping coffee
and maybe smoking something in the early morning, 
listening to birds and watching the dew form, 
alone with you.


I know it's long, I'm gonna cut it down. It's also barely been edited, I literally wrote it in the last ten minutes. Feedback if you feel like it!

NOTE: I am editing this poem on and off, because sometimes when I read it over there are things that I can't not change. If you see slight alterations, do not be alarmed.

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