Girl Half Full - Poem by Delilah Miller
I didn't need Bob's judgemental eyes
And I told him so.
Because I was in between grief,
anger and other abstract words.
I could tell he really knows
that I'm ready to cry at the dropp of a leaf,
because they're the same color as Mike's crazy ties.
Let's talk about it, let's lighten your soul.
Let's not, I just want to hear holy words.
What, you've never ached before?
I told Bob to stop with the knowing sighs,
because I know he's grieved before, perhaps even more.
I can't fight the tears anymore;
I told Bob I never felt so empty; he told me I'm a glass half full.
During my dead boyfriend's funeral, I know
Bob, the funeral director, would drink me if he could.
I say it quietly, something dry and tart.
And Bob touches my waist and I feel, instead of decency,
Bob's breath, hot as hell,
on my cheek as he remarks
that my dead boyfriend would've said so.
But then again, I loved Mike's judgemental eyes
because I always looked, especially in black, so damn good.
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