Unfinished Business
Location
These days feel like half-empty sheets of paper
and I don't have enough ink in my pen
My coffee has gone cold
but I continue drinking,
because drinking
is a nervous habit of mine
I'm afraid to turn twenty-one
(if I ever get that far)
because my body might fail me ▬
some sick way of revenge
For the days I cut it open
and watched it cry,
for the days I left it empty-handed
with nothing but a dry mouth
and a burning stomach
These are new days
ones with sunlit mornings
and dew-painted grass,
but I've been allergic all my life
some people are incapable
of stopping to smell the roses
So this poem will go unfinished
I hope my life does the same
- B. B. -