Monday, June 4, 2012

Poem 10

We sit.
We are silent,
except the sniffling
from me,
directed at you.

We fight.
We are angry,
and lonely together
you always
do this, blame me.

You pick.
You are irate,
yelling and cursing
at me,
but what can I do.

I weep.
I am cut to the quick,
I hate that we do this

But the days
we don't
fight or
yell or

I live
for those days,
when you say

Some days,
I'm not sure
if the bad days
are worth the good.

1 comment:

  1. Similar to the last. Some raw emotion, but I wonder if you can do more than "cut to the quick" and familiar phrases like that.

    Also, if the Bukowski influence is going to continue, I suggest thinking about his tone, too, which is often very bleak, detached, world-weary. . .

    Is this what we're after? Maybe.

    I like the general setup of this poem, though, The question of whether the good is worth the bad. Maybe you can contrast those with images.