Probably not as funny as I think I am
Insta @chloe_j_writes
if my prayers were pennies, how many in the jar? when will I have saved enough to finally meet the bar? shake the jar, and listen-
By Chloë J.about a year ago in Poets
Lights: dimmed Curtains: raised Breathe: deep One. Two. Three times. Begin. Wires on my wrists, elbows, knees, feet; move my appendages in graceful discordance.
wrench my arm from your grip, reluctant to release; savor the shadows that will linger, tattoos of tender violence. teeth, draw blood-
sweep an arm across the sky, watch the scattered constellations confessing a thousand loves. / lay still, and stiller still,
Crushes and love come in threes, My commitment issues freeze, They say “maybe this time, Would it be such a crime, For me to have found one to squeeze?”
Waking and pouring the coffee, Confessing my sanity’s dodgy- The caffeine will help, I muffle my yelp, I guess my thought process was faulty.
For sixteen years, I watched, sweet friends, Keeping you safe from hurt; Mailmen, guests, and bad boyfriends, Had to put in the work.
Each day, a thousand cruelties, Anguish dispensed without a care, All focused on their miseries, Each day, a thousand cruelties.
clock broke. stuck on the moment when you broke my heart. time froze; I couldn’t.
witchcraft of the clock- how the hated minutes stretch, while treasured ones flee.
time’s progression fooled me into thinking I changed; older, not wiser.
history repeats generational curses; only the year’s changed.