deepundergroundpoetry.com
spring break is over
This town wants to wage wars on a body
that is already a battleground.
I have become my crimson smears
staining the words “I’m sorry”
on everything I touch.
You don't mind that I've ruined your upholstery
and you never bother trying to scrub me out.
I want to go some place
where the winters are colder
than my innards
and spend hours sitting in snow banks
until they too
match the pigment of my regret.
Lately I’ve been thinking less about
how I wish you had stayed
and more about how nice it’d be
to shiver with you.
that is already a battleground.
I have become my crimson smears
staining the words “I’m sorry”
on everything I touch.
You don't mind that I've ruined your upholstery
and you never bother trying to scrub me out.
I want to go some place
where the winters are colder
than my innards
and spend hours sitting in snow banks
until they too
match the pigment of my regret.
Lately I’ve been thinking less about
how I wish you had stayed
and more about how nice it’d be
to shiver with you.
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