She's not here anymore
She's not here anymore
But the cars still go
Alone most of the the time
Sunk low most of the time
But the cars still go
And the people still walk by my small dim lit room
Talking to each other and going to be somewhere
and whether or not they get there
The cars still go.
And I can hear the volume in the next room over
I can hear the light on and I can feel the distance
and it's just a little cold but
The cars still go.
And the aching in my body lets my fingers know
that the winters' running faster than my blood can flow.
In another place I'm sure I've got a smile on,
I can sense it just a little when the shades are drawn,
heavy blankets on,
but the cars still go.
and the cars still go.
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ReplyDeleteI read this again and each time i felt it really has a loneliness that lingers. I really like the line where you describe the people that you hear around you...
ReplyDelete"and whether or not they get there
The cars still go."
The repetition of "the cars still go" is really effective and makes that feeling of loneliness really noticeable. It's interesting because the poem is about something lacking but every time i read it i feel heavy, it reminds me of the kind of sadness that is tiring and makes me want to remain hiding under a rock.
Also, it's cool how you say here that you can "hear" that the "light is on" in another room. Usually people would write that they can see a light, but you use a different sense and that's original. For some reason makes me think of Van Gogh, oh well still your line is clever!
sorry i'm spamming your comment box eh eh
so pretty
ReplyDelete