I
There he is,
that dude I don't know,
those cuts on his wrists,
just for show.
His body slides in,
next to mine.
So brightly his eyes shine,
and we wait to begin.
We play this game,
a game with no name.
He starts to talk,
I try not to gawk.
His smile grabs me,
I count to three.
I never say a word,
but I try,
to make the lines blur,
and not pry.
So many times,
I had tried before,
to uncover his crimes,
to learn some more.
I know now,
what I didn't then,
but I didn't get how,
he did it again,
and again.
Teases and jokes,
he dealt with each day.
I start to choke,
as I think of the way,
it passed me by,
and by,
and by.
If only I'd cared,
a little bit more.
If only I'd stepped through the door,
to clear the air.
As we part,
he touches my heart,
"Have a good day,"
is all he did say.
I wasn't aware,
time was counting down.
It's sometimes too much to bear.
The seat next to me,
grew cold,
memories locked with a key,
stayed untold.
that dude I don't know,
those cuts on his wrists,
just for show.
His body slides in,
next to mine.
So brightly his eyes shine,
and we wait to begin.
We play this game,
a game with no name.
He starts to talk,
I try not to gawk.
His smile grabs me,
I count to three.
I never say a word,
but I try,
to make the lines blur,
and not pry.
So many times,
I had tried before,
to uncover his crimes,
to learn some more.
I know now,
what I didn't then,
but I didn't get how,
he did it again,
and again.
Teases and jokes,
he dealt with each day.
I start to choke,
as I think of the way,
it passed me by,
and by,
and by.
If only I'd cared,
a little bit more.
If only I'd stepped through the door,
to clear the air.
As we part,
he touches my heart,
"Have a good day,"
is all he did say.
I wasn't aware,
time was counting down.
It's sometimes too much to bear.
The seat next to me,
grew cold,
memories locked with a key,
stayed untold.
♠ ♠ ♠
This is just something I wrote for my creative writing class. Or should I say am writing. We have a writing notebook and this is the first out of eight that I feel actually means something.Okay so. I'm actually kind of hating this. I don't know. My tenses started to screw up. Past, present, past, present. It is supposed to sound like a flash back, reflection on the subject, thing. I hope it sounds okay. I mean, I feel better. I actually cried. My creative writing teacher said, you know when you're done (or need to stop) when you cry. And well. I stopped. And I'm done.