I, The Poet - I'm Aging Just Fine, Thanks.

I've roamed my house

Singing the same damn song

For weeks at a time, I sing

The same damn melody.

Like a broken record

For the broken-hearted.

I've read the paper,

Which is highly uncharacteristic of me

Just to feel something other than

Sheer misery as I roam the empty halls

Of my home as I try not to fill these empty lungs.

I notice that I'm no longer ok

This is nothing compared to the past

But it certainly feels like a curse

I've watched all the movies

That speaks to my sad soul

Hoping for home when all I feel is

Homesick.

You built a home in me I couldn't fill

And now the furniture is rotting

And the walls weep a cavernous cry

Like they miss you too.

My couch is a cold piece of concrete

And my bed is a torture chamber

Because I love you in my dreams

And wake up to no one.

Cold space beside me I use to cool

My hot feverish skin.

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Always looking for someone to love

As I cry the ground shakes beneath me.

This is not a poem about

The beauty of misery because

Misery haunts my taste buds like

The smell of tar and cigarettes

Remembering buying singles

At the dep near your house is like bullets

To my very skull.

It shatters my spirits.

And waking up in your bed was

Sadistic of me.

I should never have stayed

But I wanted to hold you just a second longer

And you needed someone to hold

But you were retreating slowly

Like an army under siege.

Because I am not old enough

To meet your family.

I'm aging just fine, thanks.

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