PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The numbers are placed too close to the edge of the page

The stars shine on my palm as milky dots

I used to be good at this



My tongue got burnt by a thought

That acted out at me in ways no one wants

Left out confused in my own clear thinking

It still hurts after hours of sleeping

In my bed



In my home I trace my departure

And I know that I’m leaving for good

That night won’t be the last, I’m sure

Want me to write about you, you would



- Oh no, it’s fine; really, don’t bother.

- I’ll get you another

- I’m just trying to stand up for my-

-Your motives confuse me, you should just relax

- Relax? You break me down so bad I-

- You’re too dramatic.

- You’re too much of a bitch, I seriously hate you!

- Go to hell!

-Where the fuck do you think I am?



I’ve trusted you for the last time

Your words now hang in the tension between us



Now say “thank you” to the camera

Wave, smile, sit……shit.