Socks

Your face, it isn’t hers

She’s not here but I want something 

And your eyes say that you want it too

And we begin our conversation in the kitchen

And we will finish in your bedroom

And I’ve been here before

But not this room

And you’ve been here

And this means so little

We’re only here for statistics

Stories

And

Ourselves

Despite this we need each other

It’s a lively paradox, like we talked about

Either in the kitchen or the walk home where I made promises

Now it’s morning

I walked you home

Where I made promises

But there’s no one to walk me home

I’m no longer wearing any socks

It’s okay, I’m glad there’s no one to talk to

Because, I don’t want anyone to wonder

Whatever happened to my sockies

@5 months ago with 3 notes
#writing #stories #poetry #or something