coping mechanisms
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Everytime I see someone since my uncle’s been gone, they tell me how different I look
How I cut my hair short
How my acne cleared up
How my lips aren’t chapped anymore
Five hundred miles between a temporary bed and what felt like a bad dream
Two days in oblivion just waiting for a “hey, I’m better off today”
But the message never came
Just rumors of a tree by the soccer field
Muted grey
Shades of pain
Blurry sneers
My arms stretched out
Coils freeze on my limbs
Hanging above soulless concrete
What if I told you that poets were overrated?
Someone who can only write when they’re sad,
Or in love or in bliss or in need of desperate rent money,
Is like a flower that only drinks from a tsunami.
