Post by amelie on Jan 24, 2004 23:12:02 GMT -5
The bed is an ocean wide,
And I sink way too far in.
There too many cups, and pots
And pans look fat and unfulfilled.
The dishwasher takes days to load
And my bills are undersized.
I jump at the sounds of night
And I keep a light on the stair.
I hear the echo when I laugh,
And the silence of assent
When I rant at the news.
Nobody notices my period,
Or challenges me because
I choose to be disagreeable.
I buy only sensible underwear
And still keep a light on the stair.
I talk to furniture and believe it cares,
Although the mirror has said
It is bored with staring at me.
I look forward to Mondays,
And listen all evening to songs
For a chat and some advice.
I shower instead of bathe
And need that light on the stair.
I cannot sweep your worst jokes
From my mind and cry like a child
When your junk mail still arrives.
There are places I do not go,
Knowing the memories it would evoke.
I think I am losing the capacity
To speak in complete sentences,
And I can’t turn that light off the stair.
