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Sam Larson Poem
Today, it is a sunny Thursday morning in April, and my body
aches like it does when a rainstorm hits, and I am regrettably
bitter about it because in this very moment in time,
I am still waywayway too aware
of this world.
My horoscope tells me that it’s about time to get rid of some of
the baggage that I’ve been lugging all around town with me.
But (apparently) I haven’t quite
figured out where to
put it all yet.
And it’s times like these where I try to fool myself into thinking that
I’m actually good at things – regular things that other people
are especially and typically ordinarily good at.
Like, writing poetry or scrapbooking, or bigger-deal-things like
showing up to work on time.
And I’ve been waiting to tell you this without blinking for once,
and I’ve been actively searching for that relief everyone keeps
saying is buried deep in that one place that’s also hidden
underwater somewhere. So if you could feel the
blood in my veins, you’d know what I mean.
I’m anxious to feel the exact moment when the morning sunlight
hits your cheek and your irises slowly dilate with the rhythm of
your heartbeat, and I would memorize it all so perfectly,
you would’ve thought it was just a simple feeling
to give away.
But it’s impossible to sneeze while keeping your eyes completely
open and I may be just a little pessimistic about some stuff
every now and again, and I know that it’s been
a really long while since we’ve touched,
but you still look the same to me.
Copyright © Sam Larson | Year Posted 2018
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Details |
Sam Larson Poem
the way that I’m feeling right now
is exhaustingly difficult to explain with words –
I feel like a child, even now when I try to communicate
with you,
but I don’t think you’ve ever
heard my voice.
and every once in a while
when my strong slowly dims to an ember,
I knew that this was no accident.
they know that it makes me
angry, because, well,
there are an infinite amount of words
that I would knot together within my spine to prove to you
just how strong I am without you
but a white lie isn’t supposed to hurt anyone.
I would like to say so many things to you;
to your pure flesh and bones,
but the thing is,
I’m really bad with public speaking
and basically anything that has to do with me
walking out on a ledge for you.
but,
things tend to sound much better on paper
anyways, don’t they?
and well,
words are supposed to be a powerful thing,
aren’t they?
as I sit here contemplating
how I’m going to
return some of your life back into my own,
I instead find myself thinking about how
I’m constantly still fighting
for yours.
and now here’s where
I decide that this way, we’re better existing
strictly on ink and paper,
so that way, we both win.
Copyright © Sam Larson | Year Posted 2018
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