deepundergroundpoetry.com
the problem
Last night you said I have a problem
but I am no longer your problem.
You washed your hands of me
but the nail holes must bleed anyway.
You were so good at crucifying yourself.
Old habits die hard.
I saw you with my replacement;
she doesn't have my problem.
She drinks diet coke; I know the glass.
She doesn't avoid bridges
because a voice always says
it's time to jump.
Her wrists don't have scars.
Your arms circle her waist.
Lips graze her ear,
moving in whispers.
I see steam-
warm breath in December,
I wonder,
if my problems
are pouring from your lips
into her too.
but I am no longer your problem.
You washed your hands of me
but the nail holes must bleed anyway.
You were so good at crucifying yourself.
Old habits die hard.
I saw you with my replacement;
she doesn't have my problem.
She drinks diet coke; I know the glass.
She doesn't avoid bridges
because a voice always says
it's time to jump.
Her wrists don't have scars.
Your arms circle her waist.
Lips graze her ear,
moving in whispers.
I see steam-
warm breath in December,
I wonder,
if my problems
are pouring from your lips
into her too.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 7
reading list entries 0
comments 9
reads 1204
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.