I saw bright lights up ahead.
colorful, spinning, I wanted them to be mine.
The car veered slightly as I turned to look. I rolled my window down to feel the wind.
I neared the lights and heard children laughing and saw parents chattering amongst eachother.
I wondered if they were taking the moment in. I wonder if they knew I was taking their moment in.
I wanted their moment to be mine.
I almost forgot you were next to me, but you shifted in your seat and I heard you take another bite of ice cream.
Mine sat next to me in the center console and I had never felt so sick.
I wanted to park the car and make a run for the carnival. I wanted to leave everything behind.
How long could we pretend? My mind was a ticking time bomb waiting until the worst perfect moment to erupt.
But we passed the lights and and the music and the children and drove toward East End.
I don't know what made me take that route, ironic to the name it held.
I couldn't find the answers.
I parked on the street and prayed you would say something, anything to stop my mind from racing.
I don't think God heard me because you just reclined your seat.
I asked what time you wanted to leave.
You didn't answer, so i turned to face you and you were gone.
I looked for you in my back seat, but you weren't there either.
I got out of the car and sat on the pavement.
He asked me what was wrong with my porch, I smiled to cover tears and said,
'I like the sidewalk better tonight.'
Stupid answer looking back on it, but sometimes I just don't know what to say.
I wondered where you went. I don't think there's enough nicotine in the world to take away my cravings. But I still
puffed away and my last cigarette and I cried.
I cried for exactly 3 minutes.
Thats when I remembered I wasn't supposed to cry. It makes me too similar to her. So I stood up instead.
I stood up and bought another pack..
another 20 reasons as to why I can't quit.
But i'd never admit that.
I don't remember going inside, but I think I did at some point.
I checked my phone to see if maybe I had missed a call from you.
Maybe you told me where you went and I didn't know.
you didn't though.
So I threw my phone away and counted the number of times my lungs made my stomach move.
I wish you would speak to me.
But I guess I've learned by now that I can't always get what I wish for.
Comments about this poem (Carnival by Simone Graves )
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