deepundergroundpoetry.com
Avoidance
I cried tonight because I miss the taste of warm home cooked meals and saturday night movie days in the living room with everyone crowded onto two couches.
I cried because I'm turning twenty this year and I don't even know if you'll be there to celebrate my birthday with me,
I cry because I miss my mom and I cry because I hate you and I hate that I hate you.
I miss the taste of the street tacos that I used to beg you to make me, and I miss how you would shoo me out of the kitchen for picking at dinner before anyone else could,
And I miss how you'd secretly let me.
I miss all of these things about you, and it is as if you are haunting me, only that you are still living.
I miss lazy sundays with Golden girl reruns with Mcdonald's coffee and Mcgriddles,
I miss garage sale car rides with out of tune singing to your favorite singer,
I miss all of these things because it was time with you, and now I am empty and cold.
My saturdays are now filled with trying not to forget what you smell like, or how you wear your hair.
And Sundays are even harder so I don't come out of my room so I don't have to see the empty couch where we would watch TV together and hear the silence from the motionless TV.
I am tiptoeing around in silence, all in hopes to avoid the overwhelming rib cracking pain that is sitting on top of my lungs. The pain that you put there in the first place.
I cried because I'm turning twenty this year and I don't even know if you'll be there to celebrate my birthday with me,
I cry because I miss my mom and I cry because I hate you and I hate that I hate you.
I miss the taste of the street tacos that I used to beg you to make me, and I miss how you would shoo me out of the kitchen for picking at dinner before anyone else could,
And I miss how you'd secretly let me.
I miss all of these things about you, and it is as if you are haunting me, only that you are still living.
I miss lazy sundays with Golden girl reruns with Mcdonald's coffee and Mcgriddles,
I miss garage sale car rides with out of tune singing to your favorite singer,
I miss all of these things because it was time with you, and now I am empty and cold.
My saturdays are now filled with trying not to forget what you smell like, or how you wear your hair.
And Sundays are even harder so I don't come out of my room so I don't have to see the empty couch where we would watch TV together and hear the silence from the motionless TV.
I am tiptoeing around in silence, all in hopes to avoid the overwhelming rib cracking pain that is sitting on top of my lungs. The pain that you put there in the first place.
Published 28th Oct 2021
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