David R.


These Summer Nights Make Me Shiver


I know you miss me in your private ways
like holding onto an extra pillow during sleep
if you sleep
if you ly there, legs extended - giving up a
good position to retaliate.

My nights are awful, just like yours.
My head is one explosion that never stops-
it continues blowing up- shrapnel sputtering
out of control
slicing every memory I have of you- parts of you bleeding
in dreams.

The cricket, the one that stays by my window
keeps telling the same story over and over, and
I can't get through to that bastard.... you are gone.

It's not as though I had you to begin with.
My ass was stuck to a truck bed and yours was in the kitchen
standing in a corner by the bar- contemplating on
what to make for dinner.

Though you were never mine, I still call you that.
Maybe I'm going insane in a sort of normal way
Like a soldier in a field talking to his comrade
after they have died
and nobody has claimed them.

I don't need tags to remember you by. I don't need your
poetry firing rounds inside my head. I'm a blessed man
who has a lot of growing up to do, a lot of letting go
in a short amount of time.

Submitted: Wednesday, July 09, 2014

Topic of this poem: regret


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