Saturdays.

There is nothing worse than hand me down Saturdays

No answer, call you back

Flipped to the back burner Saturdays.

The Saturdays where the only sound you hear

Is the creaking of empty cupboards

And the only things that keep you company

Is the turmoil from a past life.

I was alone yesterday.

In my apartment.

Patting backs with empty space

And saying hello to memories.

Memories of women who

Rip the hinges off of diaries

And assault the words it took so much courage to write

I watched as the pages swallowed their tears

And as the diary opened its arms up to me

And said "Love me in pieces"

But it was better whole.

I was alone yesterday.

And the only thing to keep me company

Was a razor sharp woman

Freely falling with her edges

A woman with a vendetta

To make my skin feel steel.

She is a woman who never loses

Has everything to lose

The kind who creates a force field

Made of knives.

To get to the center

You have to get scissored.

I was alone yesterday.

I was cleaning

For company who never came

And people who never cared to stay

Longer than it takes to wreck the peace here.

I reacquainted myself with

Dirty tile floors.

We look more similar everyday.

I was alone yesterday.

With nothing but a view

I didn't care to look at

Of a city that doesn't know how to love me back

And the only thing I looked forward to was a drive by

Of Hi's. Hellos. How Are Yous. Goodbyes.

I sat in the empty space

And wondered what would it take for this place to feel

Like Home again.

Fun again.

At least a little less lonely.

I was alone yesterday.

While you were in my city

Close enough to touch me

Close enough to call me

But why would you?

When it comes to me

Your phone is on silent

There are no missed calls

And outgoing ones just give wrong impressions.

I think you were too busy fondling the other stars in your sky

Too busy to see I

And everything I am

Make up constellations for you to gaze upon

My being makes me Taurus

Which is really Zeus in disguise

And it seems you only focus

When the lightning strikes.


There is nothing worse than hand me down Saturdays.

No answer, call you back

Flipped to the back burner Saturdays.

The Saturdays where the only sound you hear

Is the sweeping of dusty tiles

And the only things that keep you company

Are the turmoil from this life

The disappointments they bring

And Ramen to fill the stomach.

*And that ladies and gentleman is called a freewrite. These will also appear more often, *