deepundergroundpoetry.com

it's disgusting.

it is,
I forget everything remotely important.
 
I forgot that I owed you  
an honest attempt to fix things,
and I dropped you thoughtlessly.
 
I forgot to say thank you
last night when you gave me
what I asked for;
 
I fucking fell asleep,
 
and this morning
my head was so guilty
I curled up on the porch with my guitar and a cup of black
and tried to name the guilt again,
 
forgetting I was supposed to meet my birth mother
today for lunch.
Saturday. Noon was the time. It's almost three.  
No phone to tell me;
I was shutting the world out.
Yet again.
 
maybe one day I'll realize that
is a dangerous way to cope
Written by rowantree
Published
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