Waves

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: July 19, 2018

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Submitted: July 19, 2018

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Waves 

The waves always sound the same but the waves never sound the same. 
Familiar but not family 
I like that I can blow my smoke across the room,  
like the air is empty. 
I lay my knees on the ground 
look up at the world 
asking a God to help me,  
but He can't help me. 
Cold air hugs my skin 
like the smoke hugs my lungs  
chaps my lips 
I bite my tongue.  
Words won't leave,  
the smoke won't leave 
my chest compressed 
I began to heave.  
No words to say, no reason to be.  
My mind is heavy, so I breathe heavy. 
I snore in my sleep,  
I drink my coffee iced sometimes black, 
and sometimes sweet. 
My head spins like a car crash on the cold concrete. 
Unless it's summer. 
Then the ground is hot but my thoughts still bleak. 
And it's always a still pressure to find new words to speak because 
the waves always sound the same but the waves never sound the same. 

 

 

B. D. Monroe 


© Copyright 2019 Marcy Pine. All rights reserved.

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