Insanity Journals

One

 

Your gift sat under the pine tree for days,

I couldn’t bring myself to open it.

I finally did:

a pen.

Love the irony.

Sorry I didn’t get you anything.

 

Two

 

Got your letter this morning.

Read all twenty-seven words,

seventeen times.

 

Three

 

Saw you at the mall today,

you didn’t tell me you were back.

You looked beautiful in your summer dress

as you walked down the crowded floor.

 

Four

 

I had a feeling I’d find

a letter on my mailbox.

Yet you know better than I do:

It was empty.

 

Five

 

First date since you left:

She’s a friend of a friend.

I took her to that Italian restaurant,

the one you said you didn’t like.

I just couldn’t take her

anywhere I’d gone with you.

 

Six

 

Got the invitation

for Isabella’s wedding:

Myself and a guest.

There’s no one to take.

I assumed I’d go with you,

I’ll probably send my regrets.

 

Seven

 

I went to the wedding.

I thought you’d be there.

You weren’t.

Just like the mail, you didn’t come.

Instead I danced with a girl,

and drank half the punch.

She told me to call her anytime,

but I probably won’t.

 

Eight

 

My friends invited me to dinner

at this Indian place.

They tried to make me laugh.

but I couldn’t enjoy myself,

busy as I was,

wishing myself happy birthday

on your behalf.

 

Nine

 

Of course

I would get your postcard

the day after I called her.

It was inconsequential,

a little three-line nothing,

and now I can’t stop thinking

about you.

 

Ten

 

Ripped sweatpants on my kitchen floor and

a faint smell of nicotine drenched in my pillow,

every time I open a drawer I find something

that reminds me of you.

 

Eleven

 

Every day I write less,

words don’t come to me like they used to.

The publishers said I need to get my s**t together.

I’m falling behind in the book.

Just can’t write anymore.

 

Twelve

 

The editor called;

she said I needed time off,

I wasn’t okay.

She told me to seek counseling,

the company will pay.

 

Thirteen

 

I’m walking on clouds.

 

Fourteen

 

Lithium no longer does it,

I am submerged in a wave of blackness.

 

Fifteen

 

I found God, he lives in my head.

He moved there when my heart was broken.

I hate him, just like I hate you.

 

Sixteen

 

I see monsters,

they live in mirrors.

 

Seventeen

 

I’m flying.

Soaring above a sea of fire.

Bury me,

I’ll be your Annabel Lee.

Author's Note

This differs a little from my usual "comfort zone" in poetry. With that disclaimer in mind, I want everyone who reviews to absolutely destroy my poem.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

I like the complete poem. The use of numbers gave the poem balance and strong story.
"I found God, he lives in my head.
He moved there when my heart was broken.
I hate him, just like I hate you."
This is real poetry and story. Thank you for the outstanding poem.
Coyote