Pools of Sorrow/Waves of Joy

I’m not claiming that this is poetry, or even that it’s good in any sense. I’m not really even trying to say much, and I don’t even know if it’s finished. Or of it’s anything at all. I just kind of wanted somewhere to put it.

Look at you sitting there

cold and broken

make-up down your face

frozen spoon on your neck

if you can’t have him

you’ll just take anyone to fill that space

but no one will

it’s meant for him alone

but he’s not biting

so anyone will do

for now, at least

you hated giving yourself over before

but now it just comes naturally

when all you want

is to be wanted in return

if only for a moment

if only for a minute

if only for a night

anything counts

one more night that you won’t give up on

because of the warmth of a body beside you

you know that body doesn’t have a face

and yours is covered in remnants of the night

and shame and sadness

loneliness and longing

and a single tear

that makes itself a trail

blazing through the dirt and shadows

it all breaks down and falls apart

just like you

when you wake up and realize

it wasn’t what you wanted

because all you hoped for

was to just feel alive

and no amount of

glitter or vodka or one-night stands

or words like “sexy” or “gorgeous” or “fuck me”

will make you feel that way

but you try

and you cry

and that’s the closest thing

you’ll ever have

to feeling human.