Grace

i feel uncomfortable not speaking to the person i speak... just me, maybe.

the hallway turns off into too many doors
too many knobs
too many cracks of light

lighting is fuzzy
and hums
bulbs are yellow
and dying
the bodies of bugs burn on the wicks

feet shuffle
mine drag
laces are dingy
and the aglets are gone
my feet are only kind of wet
my socks only kind of soaked

gaits trip over the carpets
and I stumble over black lines
on the linoleum

conversation lags
disappears
never existed
no one speaks anymore

we are too far away
to make eye contact
but we see the other fine

I should not have to speak first
“hello”
I still should not have to speak first

he mumbles.
we pass.

Reviews

[Sashalee]

wow..I just relize while I was reading this poem I was at the edge of my seat. awesome poem :)