PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

We share a bunk room divided by silence,

Surrounded by dark blue wool curtains;

Thoughts move, quiet and hidden

Like something waiting to begin.

Wooden lockers rest along the wall,

Holding names we haven’t exchanged;

I stand on the cold cemented floor,

Bare feet listening to my hesitation.

Your worn-out sneakers in the corner

Seem to watch me, urging me to speak,

And every now and then, our eyes meet,

Humble stares that never stay long.

I’ve rehearsed a hundred openings in my head,

A hundred versions, a hundred times;

Simple words that should be easy to say,

But fold back like white linen tucked too tight.

So I await where I am, caught in between

A braver mind and a reluctant heart,

Hoping maybe tomorrow... or later today...

I’ll find a way to begin, even if it’s just “hey.”