friday night, 10pm
he calls, and almost politely
asks if i'm available
(and for him, ofcourse i am)
so we go out, have a few drinks,
end up in his bedroom where we're found
tangled in each other, heartbeats
back and forth in our chests

saturday morning, 9am
i awake with his leg wrapped around mine
my toes kissing his heels;
he throws on his clothes and
we get breakfast

sunday afternoon, 3pm
i hear nothing.
i see him at night and he notices me,
contemplates a smile,
and disappears

monday morning, 8am
i am starting to wonder;
i see him and he looks at me
with apathetic eyes

tuesday evening, 7pm
he is starting fights
making insignificant matters seem
crucial, laughing at my idiocy, saying
"god, i can't believe you!"

wednesday night, 12am
i am living in doubt with
tears behind my eyes.
he doesn't think of me.

thursday, all day
i am pain.
i am regret.
i am sadness. i am giving up.

friday night, 10pm
he calls, and almost politely
asks if i'm available
(and for him, ofcourse i am)

11/19/2006

Author's Note: i do it to myself.

Posted on 11/19/2006
Copyright © 2024 Emily Davidson

Member Comments on this Poem

Posted by A. Paige White on 11/19/06 at 10:01 PM Don't we though (i do it to myself)? Don't we just? ... and all he has to do is call... sigh... yeah, we're emancipated and liberated.... and all he has to do is call.