basking in the dark blue
of a wasted afternoon
i have not had the chance
to feel
yet
my heart rate,
increases in anticipation
of my desk
which,
will eventually double
as a pillow
the story is about a restless leg. it bounces, bounces, and bounces. i dream of ivory houses i call home. my loved ones bring me ice cream, but they do not love me as much as i love them. when will i love anybody? this may be a fake feeling, this deranged heat i feel.
this girl i trust enough
shows up
with her inner turmoil
and begs help
i tell her
as my father once said,
“i am unhappy with my life,
but i am certain
that you will be better
than me”
a torturous five seconds
pass by
before she can drop
her pity for me
and muster a smile
the ice cream has melted already.
they will stop loving me if i keep this up.