Open Mic Nights

Brown eyes beautiful long lashes curved for days
His head sways to the sound of the beats to my rhymes
I notice he comes here all the time
Sits in the same chair sips on the same drink
His eyes on me his ears giving me attention
When I'm up on stage
I wonder what he's thinking
Is he catching my drift of the poem
Is he just listening or if he hears me to
Does he know the poetry I speak is about him
That I stare in his direction whenever I write in the background
I wonder if he knows my name and if it means something to him
Do the words I speak talk to his heart
And if so, does it speak the same language
Or is love just foreign to him like it use to be for me
Does he even know that he gave my poetry meaning
I threw away the paper and let go of the pen
When I speak on the stage I only look at him
He inspires the words that come out of my mouth
But in the back of my mind I wonders if he really notices me
Or will he just be a man in a distance
Sitting in the same chair, drinking the same drink
Killing time

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741