January 13, 2009
By Marnie Pimentel, West Nyack, NY

Ever since Friday, I've
been starting out my mornings
with a glass of cherry Coke.
(trying, at least - the coffee sticks in my throat.)
I lived on the slow rush because there was nothing else.
Home is not home, and home is not here
His face'll haunt me to my freshman grave.

Here I am
looking sad

leaning against
a brick wall
in front of a window

I can't see.
You spoke.

Walk me around campus
and show me my future.
Some other courtship
I wouldn't expect.

I think I'm bisexual.

You looked for the secrets in my pockets,
the poems I wrote in class to be
So nervous.

Bleached your hair in the bathroom one weekend, and
I swear your eyes were gold.

You found out
the second week.
just friends,
but that's okay.

Of course.

(I love you.
Is that poetic enough?)

First dance, you swore, I'd never be alone.
Heads on stomachs.
I can feel your lungs, your heartbeat
Go through sternum, fabric, muscle, skin

Looking down, hair in my face
I close my eyes.
And open them

"What's wrong?"
"I don't know."
"Yes, you do."

Take two.

"Why do you always look so sad?"
"I wish I knew."
Warmth enclosing, softly
I won't be numb anymore, I promised.

"Will you marry me?"

Three weeks of surreal belonging;
I met your father and I cried.

New York, New Jersey, Maryland.
East coast, but you might as well
be lost forever until heaven takes us,
spits us out at seventeen.

Answer my letters and I'll bring you back.

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This article has 1 comment.

on Apr. 10 2009 at 12:40 am
Katie Bridges, St.Stephen, Other
0 articles 0 photos 2 comments
Great poem, I loved it!

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