It’s It’s It’s

poetry

It’s the hesitation in my skull
Pulsing like the crickets outside my window
As I lay wide awake counting the stucco on the ceiling
Eye’s opening, closing, rolling, tearing, squinting.
Repeating the words, relax, As the birds begin to chirp
But nothing works, so I lay awake until I lay asleep

It’s the disconnection in my eyes
As I stare at his picture in the back of my mind
Only a stomach full of whiskey can help revert my view
But just until the morning
Then there he is, hand in hand with my hangover

It’s the feel of my protruding ribs as I pull my shirt over my head
While the mirror breathes in every insecurity only to spit it right back in my face
So I spin around and around like a beat up model begging for satisfaction
But the only one in the crowd is me

It’s the deceiving smile I put on to avoid confrontation
Because i’ve heard every hallmark, bullshit quote in the book
But I’ll pretend to deal into their empty bluff
Until this card game is over and his picture appears again

It’s the sweat that forms beneath this mask i wear
Constantly afraid the decorations might fall off
Fall from this mask I’ve spent endless nights creating
But it’s better than leaving my skin bare

Trust is for people who believe the world is a good place