Poem #1

The television pulses red, then blue

an artificial sunrise I didn’t ask for.

My head swims in the glow,

spinning with the weight of things unsaid.

You sleep behind me,

untouched by the static,

the noise I’ve become.

I slide to the floor like surrender,

knees drawn in, hands shaking.

The plastic clings to my fingers,

familiar now.

Not a cry for help

more like a question I don’t expect answered.

Would you cry?

Would you even know how?

Or just stare, stunned,

like the way you used to look at sunsets

before they started boring you.

My vision tightens,

my reasons blur.

All those big feelings

suddenly feel small—

stupid, even.

The air thins.

The silence wraps around my neck

gentler than you ever were.

A tear rolls out—

not from pain, not regret.

Just the last thing I have left

to give you.