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Audio: Oversleeping

Today, I overslept.
No matter what, I get out of bed
at seven o’clock, the light streaming
in like a miracle of persuasion, telling me
that there’s so much to do, I better get started.
Except, today, I didn’t. I slipped past the
finish line I drew with shaky hands,
because I am tired,
because I didn’t want to think
about how much I miss you,
because it is a feeling that extends
beyond rock bottom words
and empty, once-occupied spaces,
because we are playing a game of tag
when it should be a game of cat and mouse,
because sometimes
I am jealous of your obligations
and I don’t want to be.

This afternoon I realized
that you have taught me many things
and I wear them like a cross, like a talisman
from a religion we stitched together
using parts of ourselves, a little heart
a little skin, and a world of hope.
I know what it means
to want something too badly,
to feel like an island
landlocked by circumstance – and no,
that doesn’t make any sense, it is a paradox,
but so am I,
and so are you. I am okay with that.

Today, I trail my fingers
through the water of the pool, light reflecting
on the surface, shining like the questions
I am keeping to myself.
Am I important to you?
How, exactly, do you feel?
Tell me. I want to know. Tell me
so that I don’t have to ask. Tell me
because you can see it in my smile,
that I need to be assured that this real.
(Sometimes I question
the functionality of my own heart.)
I just need to hear you say it –
can you do that?
will you? I don’t know. I am not okay with that.

Three cups of coffee down, I realize
that I am holding too much back,
I am holding myself back,
because when I know what I want
I push too hard, and I don’t look back.
I don’t want to scare you.
I don’t want to say too much too soon,
but I know I will eventually
because I am wide open
and vulnerable
here, because I am seeking
when I should be still,
because I am anything but calm
and rational, even when I look at ease.

Today, I removed the mask
I didn’t know I was wearing; tomorrow
will be the real test
to see if you can tell which face of mine
is true. The catch may be
that they both are. The catch may be
that neither are. The catch may be
that I want you
to figure it out. Make me more
that just an afternoon, more than just
a moment – find me here,
because you want to.

I don’t want to oversleep anymore.

Categories: Poetry
  1. June 20, 2012 at 9:56 am


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