sarah g

2: 18 - Poem by sarah g

It's two eighteen.
And soon it will be two nineteen.
And then two twenty.
It's all very consistent, this passing of time.
I hate that about you.
But you, two eighteen,
Are one of my favorites.
You're that moment when you have to contemplate
Whether to call this morning or night,
And that's all i can ask for, really,
From a thing so predictable.
You, two eighteen, are a time for climbing out
Of my window with only a
Candle, a double shot of espresso,
And shitty poetry floating out of
My shitty mind.
In the time it's taken to write this down,
Nine minutes have passed.
And you're gone, two eighteen.
I do sometimes wonder where it is you go
After your sixty seconds of existence.
And maybe i miss you.
Or maybe i just miss shitty poetry and
Timeless rooftop rants.
But you left me, two eighteen.
And so, i suppose,
None of the rest
Really matters
In the end.

Topic(s) of this poem: lost

Poet's Notes about The Poem

i used to love this time of night but now it just makes me sick to my stomach because i roll over searching for your hand in the dark but all i find is air and the sense of nostalgia that's been beating in time with my heart since the day i let you walk out of my life and now you're gone gone gone and i don't know what to do, i've been thinking about going too

Comments about 2: 18 by sarah g

  • Khairul Ahsan (8/20/2013 10:31:00 PM)

    A captivating caption,
    Liked the poem, except poetry being called shitty more than once.
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  • (8/15/2013 5:57:00 PM)

    A great poem, good write. (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, August 15, 2013

Poem Edited: Monday, December 22, 2014

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