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Cannonball Chrysalis

Come around at the wrong time.

By Joseph ParkinsonPublished 6 years ago 2 min read
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Some nights I still stare out of my

Window from halfway across my

Room, the worn down carpet still

Imprinted with the soles of two pairs

Of feet, and I could almost feel myself

Sink into and drown in the dip where

Your heel would be, pressed up against

The wall. The sodium glow from the

Streetlamp outside gives me a

Headache, the glare forcing down on

The back of my eyes like a huge

Yellow fist and I squinted, trying to

Tell myself that the shadow of a stray

Cat was you walking down the road,

Bag half filled with snacks and regret,

And your freckles that were like little

Orange buoys in an ocean of white,

Two blue clouds pierced by black

Rain and a flowing mane, the mane

Of a fucking lion but the heart of a

Joker; the one card everyone knows

But nobody is sure of. I’m stood here

Looking out of this window but I

Know in my heart you’re never coming

Back, I know in my head you’re never

Coming back and my eyes are telling

Me you are never going to come back

And I can’t understand why you can’t

Just come back. I stand here every

Night until my eyes stream with

Emotionless tears; I don’t even blink,

I just stand and wait and wait and wait

And fall asleep stood up like a ghost,

Paralysed with the fear and the thought

In my head that I know, I’m just fucking

Certain, that you’re never coming back.

But I saw you. Yesterday. Under a

Streetlamp. It was turned off. The

Butterflies in my stomach turned onto

Wasps and my arms stiffened and my

Heart stopped and I kept walking and

I started to sweat and I gritted my

Teeth and I tried not to look at you

And you smiled at me.

You smiled.

I’d like to say the panic went away but

That just condensed it, crushed it all into

A ball and dropped it into my stomach,

And I got the kind of feeling I imagine you

Get if you get shot, or hit by a train. The

Only other time someone’s mouth had that

Effect on me was your own, three weeks

Prior when you looked into my eyes and

Smiled, and bit down on the side of my

Neck, and made me feel so alive that

The butterflies stayed as butterflies but

They burst from my stomach and filled

The air around us as we breathed but

Just then, in that moment, I could not.

I looked into the soft blue clouds on

Your face and the bottom of my neck

Boiled.

I smiled back.

Maybe I was just waiting at the wrong

Time.

slam poetry
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