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Moments Before

Poetry By: Kathleen Megquier

This is what one simple, unenthusiastic, text message can do to a girl like me, from a boy that hardly even cares enough to pretend to give a damn.

Submitted:Jun 15, 2012    Reads: 59    Comments: 2    Likes: 3   

Waiting to find a sign, a direction to take.
All routes are crossed off from my mind.
Sitting here, wasting my time, seems so much more ideal for a person like me.
As the flowers wilt and the skies turn to gray.
I can only hope that a Summer day's revival will reach this earth soon.
Everything immensely in bloom, not a cloud in the sky.
Simplistic beauty like this makes all fears transcend then diminish from my eye.
The vibrantly colored treasures I keep locked away from all pleasure I could ever encounter with another human.
Boys and girls enjoy getting their kicks out of people like dependencies especially when these yearnings rely on themselves.
He calls me once, no twice on the phone, I try to stay very distant from these sudden rings.
He wanted nothing to do with me, weeks before.
Now it's all gloried normality that rattles and shakes within my ever growing thoughts of his mutual longing for me.
Nothing is ever for free. If I allow myself to dabble in his childish, selfish, absorbents I'll have to pay for this vacation of sin and emotional abuse.
Is the trip really worth it?
The ticket price even and fair?
Packing my bags?
Isn't even worth the dare.
I deny his pleasantries, and lock myself away and hidden in my tower of regret and misfortune.
I know I don't need a serpent like that snuggled close with me, in the perimeter of my bed.
Alas, a repetitive goodbye once more.
I know I've done it a thousand times before.
Yet, I must try to hold on strong, forget all the past endorphins, his touch has allowed my body to erupt in gratitude with.
I must carry on, otherwise, my efforts and restraint will all be declared amiss.


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