Lunch hour poem

“When the words of a sister come back in whispers to prove she was not….” - Taylor Swift

Sometimes it isn’t a whisper, it’s a screaming shout, so you write a poem at the lunch hour.

It’s like that breath of air

From a heavy chest

That realizes how long it’s been suffocating

I think of your name

And then all of the pain

Rushes over me like a tidal wave

Uncontrollable

My mind is blank

But spinning all the same

What’s up is down

And I’m spun all around

Holding my breath

Drying not to drown

Falling down

down

down

Then suddenly I gasp

And everyone stares

The air fills my lungs

And I’m now aware

That I’m just in a restaurant

At the grocery store

Or in a coffee shop

Perpetually haunted by your dark phantom

Faces in the windows

Shadows on the floor

It’s my only wish

To not think of you

Anymore