By John Sweet
and i was dreaming about your death and
i knew it was a dream, knew you were alive,
and i woke up crying,
85 degrees at two in the morning,
empty house in a pointless town
had given up on escape but could still
appreciate the idea of disappearing
couldn’t stop the roof from filling up with holes
or the birds from falling into empty streets
waited for the first grey light of morning
thought about the suicides of people i’d
loved and about the
bills i could no longer afford to pay
thought about my
children and had to smile
had to breathe and i was never going to
promise you safety because we were never going
to be in love and i remember that the first
lie tasted just like the last day of summer
i remember that the first kiss was
just as weightless as all the rest
Category: Poetry