melissa's poem, pt. 1

i think i inherited skyline eyes from my parents
always on my way to the other side of the river but never really there
do i ride each wave of emotion like i'm not afraid of getting wet
how about a map of all the places you accepted love
how about the moon in an apron and heels waiting for you to come home
how about clocks with eyeliner
ticking ticking blinking blinking
i am learning all the different ways to tell time
i put my head down on a grassy knoll
and i tell myself how i really feel
i look at your pretty new girlfriend's feet in her sandals
maybe she is also a clock
we have nothing more to say to each other so we talk about the weather
the weather didn't asked to be talked about
the weather is a friend we dragged here and whom we owe a soda
i know the subway like the back of a cereal box that's tasteless
but ok for my cholesterol
my joke isn't the funniest and i'm not trying to perfect it
i let it grow a white fungus beard at the bottom of the fridge of my ego
what a silly thing
trying so hard to be ... (loved? odd pronunciation of beloved?)
my coat is at the bottom of the closet
underneath pockets full of receipts
we peeled off the glue that kept us together
that aren't even fun flakes anymore
my friends make plans about making my room yellow after i move
and i suggest no other color
i like yellow