Your Poetry Dot Com - these days

Array ( [sid] => 180730 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => these days [time] => 2015-03-08 03:15:15 [hometext] => some feedback would be nice. thank you for reading. [bodytext] => there’s a thin line between boredom and I miss you. these days, on an occasional Sunday, you are where I end up. I run the same errands every couple of hours. I cook for a starved party of one, who’s never hungry when it’s time to eat. I try to write but it doesn’t come out the way I feel. I play musical chairs with my thoughts and find enlightenment every ten minutes only to lose sight of it every five. understanding isn’t the same as finding assurance. I smell the scent left on my clothes in attempt at remembering who I am. I let the water stream as I sit in the shower. tucking my knees into my chest pretending they’re your arms. I stare at the grout connecting the pieces of tile creating lines of compromise between what I thought you needed and what I wanted to give you. I finish bottles of wine and arrange them like flowers. white,red. I try to read but I see your initials everywhere and it drives. me. mad. I can’t write though I reserve the right to blame it on my inability to find my favorite pen. I stare at the clock. I stare at the clock because I am out of errands to run. I cook for a starved party who’s lost her appetite. I can’t find words. I play mind games though it doesn’t bring me any insight. I smell clothes. I still don’t recognize myself, my scent. my arms are terrible at being yours. my vision’s blurry and I don’t know if it’s the tears or the bottles of flowers. I find my pen. I write your initials. there’s a thin line between boredom and I miss you. on an occasional Sunday, I can’t tell the difference. these days, I run errands but you, you are always where I end up. [comments] => 3 [counter] => 269 [topic] => 43 [informant] => Cathartic [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops ) Your Poetry Dot Com - these days

these days
Date: Sunday, 8th March 2015 @ 03:15:15 AM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: Cathartic

there’s a thin line between boredom and I miss you. these days, on an occasional Sunday, you are where I end up. I run the same errands every couple of hours. I cook for a starved party of one, who’s never hungry when it’s time to eat. I try to write but it doesn’t come out the way I feel. I play musical chairs with my thoughts and find enlightenment every ten minutes only to lose sight of it every five. understanding isn’t the same as finding assurance. I smell the scent left on my clothes in attempt at remembering who I am. I let the water stream as I sit in the shower. tucking my knees into my chest pretending they’re your arms. I stare at the grout connecting the pieces of tile creating lines of compromise between what I thought you needed and what I wanted to give you. I finish bottles of wine and arrange them like flowers. white,red. I try to read but I see your initials everywhere and it drives. me. mad. I can’t write though I reserve the right to blame it on my inability to find my favorite pen. I stare at the clock. I stare at the clock because I am out of errands to run. I cook for a starved party who’s lost her appetite. I can’t find words. I play mind games though it doesn’t bring me any insight. I smell clothes. I still don’t recognize myself, my scent. my arms are terrible at being yours. my vision’s blurry and I don’t know if it’s the tears or the bottles of flowers. I find my pen. I write your initials. there’s a thin line between boredom and I miss you. on an occasional Sunday, I can’t tell the difference. these days, I run errands but you, you are always where I end up.

This poem is Copyright ยฉ Cathartic

Important note: ALL POETRY ON THIS SITE IS COPYRIGHT.
If you wish to use any poem for any purpose, please either EMAIL Mick from
the sites feedback form, or go to the AUTHOR'S site and EMAIL the author for permission.
If you Email Mick for permission on any poem that is not his personal works,
he will endeavor to contact the author on your behalf.

This poem comes from Your Poetry Dot Com
https://www.your-poetry.com/

The URL for this poem is:
https://www.your-poetry.com/route.php?page=poetry/PoemDetail&story_id=180730