this poem is not a love story yet

day 8 maybe
shifts like Windows restore
the only thing that brings peace
is writing love stories
part of me has stopped screaming
nobody noticed a difference
living in hell seems like a choice
when i know the future will be great
so i curl up there
when the guards are distracted
they can’t split focus too far
the nerves along their spine just as jumpy
though violence has visited me
i’ve never thought of myself as violent
starting to believe this box is here for my own good
confusing purpose with one man’s perspective
but i don’t always know what’s best
that’s up to God
and when i feel connected that works
i’m looking for a way to hack off my limb
that’s why i’m stuck here
no, i’d need to hack off more
metaphysical 911 operator can you hear me
i can’t hear you
can you hear me
i’m here
can you see me
i don’t know where here is
i’m sorry
i know you can’t hear me
but please tell my future husband i love him
i know he can’t reach me
but he’s with me
in a parallel universe
which isn’t that far away
one day i’ll get to tell him
what i used to think a multiverse looked like
it’s a funny story
because i’ve already told him
oh, lavender hot cloths
to soothe the neck


Author: tendrilwise

Hi, I have a diploma in Journalism, I've published a novel, and I am currently studying psychology. My odd way of viewing the world either gets me kicked out of parties or invited to them. Jenn McKay

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