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Alone Again Or
I sat down there
in my white tank top and
shaggy hair
that curled past my nape.
It used to be cut
square
neat and precise,
like my grades were
when my father put his hand on my shoulder
and told me,
"You're a smart kid."
and the counselor sat me down
and told me,
"You're a smart
kid."
My girlfriend and I
broke up on the bench
next to the bathrooms
because there was
no
where
else
to be alone.
And my girlfriend
and I
we never kissed or held hands
not even in that cave
we were pressed together
not even when in the beginning.
And yeah,
we watched the paintings dance
in the black light room.
She smiled and said it was going to happen
anyway.
I cried when I read Alice Walker's
Revolutionary Petunias
even if we were world's different.
I didn't tell anyone had stolen the book
from my father
don't tell decades of dust caked when
It first touched me.
There's a
Now it's hidden under next to my bed
a bookmark for every other page.
Some days it's just
ringing
in my ears
and I think,
"Damn,
those home concerts weren't such
a good idea."
I fancied myself a punk then,
even if I was afraid of breaking the rules
of my own house.
and my house and my house and
my house
my house that I keep a spare backpack
in my bedroom.
"Just in case," I told my confidant friend
as if courage would find me
when the moon does.
I face my watch
it tells me 4 AM.
I am awake at night
for no
other reason
than the fear
of wasting my time
my life
as if every second had to be
spent
before I die the next day.
maybe one day I'll stop wishing
to wake up beside
someone that isn't Apathy
maybe I'll stop thinking
up poetry
when I lay
in my bathtub naked
with the mirror covered in dark towels.
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the original poem had crossed out lines over some words and phrases. I've compensated with italics.