Poem Hunter
KML (April 3,1910 / Sacramento, CA)


i keep peeking between the blinds
at noises across the street
i've been waiting for him to get up
for over an hour now
'wake me up, ' he says
but i'm pretending
that i don't know what he means
i have no zeal for anything right now
living in the knowledge
that i am settling,
being kept at an arm's length

i stare at the sunbleached corpse
of a tiny pale beetle
on the windowsill
then a black thread next to it

falling into observation of mundane detail
i don't allow myself
any consideration of the fact
that i am settling
for being treated like sh.t

but i change my focus
to one of my violet hairs
clinging to the side of the mattress

we're gonna make love
in this room
and i'm gonna notice a blonde hair
from some slut
that you f.cked
and i won't say anything
because it's no longer my place

maybe i'll never feel real again

i stare at the freckles on his shoulder

he had wanted to treat me right
he had want me to have something better
i don't know if i ever will now

i was given
eating until you're full
and a standard of apathy
that now consumes me
so i am going to turn out just like him

for a second i wonder
if i know how to love him anymore

he's asleep again
so he doesn't hear me whisper
'i think i'm dying.'
but i'm not
because now the apathy cracks
and i can't stop crying

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