​melissa’s poem pt1

I think I inherited skyline eyes from my parents
Always on my way the other side of the river but never really there
Do I ride each wave of emotion like I’m not afraid of getting wet
How about a map of all the places you accepted love?
How about the moon in an apron and heels, waiting for you to come home?
How about clocks with eyeliner
Ticking, ticking, blinking, blinking?
I am learning all the different ways to tell time

I put my head down on a grassy knoll and I tell myself how I really feel
I look at your pretty new girlfriend’s feet in her sandals
Maybe she is also a clock
We have nothing more to say to each other so we talk about the weather
The weather didn’t ask to be talked about
The weather is a friend we dragged here and who we owe a soda

I know the subway like the back of a cereal box that’s tasteless, but okay for my cholesterol
My joke isn’t the funniest and I’m not trying to perfect it
I let it grow a white fungus beard at the bottom of the fridge of my ego
What a silly thing, trying so hard to be loved
My coat is at the bottom of the closet
Underneath pockets full of receipts
You peeled off the glue that kept us together
There aren’t even fun flakes anymore
My friends make plans about making my room yellow after I move
And I suggest no other color
I like yellow