Trouble
is a knock on the door with no response
Trouble
is an unanswered phone call with no return
Trouble
is that email I never sent you
That still sits amongst drafts
of other significant fleetings
That I will never dispense
Trouble
is something that
I can’t seem to handle
Trouble breathes
Out my pores
When my lungs
Can no longer suck in
Trouble seethes
At the cusp of us
When our hands touch
But we don’t hold on
My voice shakes
As I try to talk
over the bubbling
bile that is building
into fermented following feelings
That I can never tell you
because I’m afraid
that you’ll think I’m crazy
or that I’m too much all at once,
that you’ll run away
and never look back
Trouble
is that distant echo
through the hollow space
between us
even in my dreams
sometimes I tell myself to run away from trouble,
that it’s not worth the pain,
but maybe I’m afraid
that trouble is not just
a buried broken barrel
with a few leaks
like this one here
Maybe I’m afraid
that
I
am trouble
’cause I can’t seem to handle myself.
That definitely didn’t brighten my day but I liked the form of the poem. Your style is developing.xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
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Thanks! There will be positive ones coming 😉
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