Snap

Snap

Her family doesn’t like

Her boyfriend

What he talks about

How he calls her “Girl”

The way he treats her

They heard them arguing

Snapping

Growling

Screaming

 

They think that he hits her

So her brother hit him back

You could hear his nose snap

 

Her family tries

To tell her to let him go

To say no to him

To split them apart

 

She says that

They don’t know his heart

They don’t understand her

They don’t see them

For what they have

So until they do

She won’t see them

She’s had enough

They’ve pushed her so far

That she’s finally snapped

 

The apartment used to be clean

Because of her

The conversation had continued

Because of her

The meaning in their time together

Was all because of her

 

Now as the silence grows

As the dishes pile up

As time together matters less

Like the mess on the floor

She’s learned to not care

Just like him sitting on that couch

Eating his pile of snacks

Snapping up the silence

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Dear So & So

Dear So & So,

It’s been 5 years— I wonder if you’d recognize me; this face, this countenance, the expressions I make.

Would I recognize you? If I did, it wouldn’t surprise me. To remember your smirk, your reserved mannerisms earnestly reaching towards me, the way that your eyes would crinkle upwards as you gave a genuine laugh— would I?

Are you still the same? Cause what I don’t remember is the sound of my name on your lips, articulated by your tongue and echoed through your diaphragm. I don’t remember the sound of your laugh whether it was light and happy or if it was given nervously, timidly as if you were scared that someone would take it and force it back into your mouth and swallow down the reason why you ever dared to open up.

I also don’t remember the look that your eyes had. What I like to think is that they looked lost.I believe that they did— no. I know that they did. That the way your eyes looked out into the world was as if they desired, longed, wished, wanted, lusted— that all their owner ever wanted, needed was someone to ease their loneliness. I think, I think that they looked at me that way. They told me that it was me. I thought that it was me.

Yet, 5 years have told me otherwise. The way that my phone doesn’t ring, the way that a message with your face doesn’t appear, the way that my email inbox doesn’t have your name attached to it: they all tell me it wasn’t me. Right now, I finally realize, I finally know that it wasn’t me.

So if I saw you at a glance, would I recognize you? Yes, I would, but I’ll pretend that I didn’t.

Wishing you the best, even though I do not know what that means anymore.

Sincerely,

Saying that I don’t care

Compensation

Every time the door goes

Swinging,

Flying,

Bursting,

Flinging,

Open,

I imagine that I hear your footsteps

Either slowly or quickly

Closing the distance

To where I sit

Destitute and forlorn.

 

My heart quickens-

It must be you!

The voice that speaks-

It sounds like yours!

My mood begins to elevate-

 

Then it stops.

 

It’s not you.

You would have come to me by now.

The voice no longer sounds like yours.

The footsteps,

Foreign and strange.

 

So I content myself with a compensatory thought.

You’ll be back soon.

I know it.

I’ll just patiently wait a little longer.

A little longer.

A little longer.

Longer.

The Charm

Silver and small

The way that light hits each link

Makes it appear

Like a lobster’s claw.

Attached,

Somehow,

Is a behemoth.

It stands.

Four legs.

A trunk.

A tail.

Its ears;

Perfectly large-

Trunk so happily lifted high,

It could shower water at any time.

The links it grasps-

A pair of hearts.

You can feel the love coming from them-

They link together.

Dear life they represent;

Small,

But they mean

So much

To the one

That holds them.

They are smooth.

They are harsh.

Love,

Is not

A

Smooth ride.

It Waits

It comes back no matter what room I’m in.

No matter how many times,

It comes back twice as tall.

It waits,

Waiting for me to go through it.

I’m dreading that it will remind me

That every

Single,

Lonely

Person

That comes into contact with it,

That it exists,

That they

Couldn’t

Care

Less

About me.