i don't miss you and i rarely think of you.

i don't miss you and i rarely think of you.

A Poem by twinsets

oh, you. i'm sitting in that red chair by the window looking out onto my backyard and remembering when you were sitting in this same chair and i was next to you and i think i was playing with your watch. any excuse to touch you. your watch kept lighting up when i pressed that button on the side of it. 
i was so exasperated with you the next morning when you left your keys in my room and refused to come to get them and then the next time i saw you, when i did give them back, you kept looking right through me. 
oh, you. i saw the 373 bus last night, really late, around midnight and it was trundling off towards coogee, towards your house, except that last night neither you nor i was on it. four pillows for me and none for you, and your bookshelf is full of all of your childhood books and i always wonder where you put all the new ones that you claim to read. i'm almost, almost at the point where i miss you boasting about being a really fast reader, but i'm not quite there yet. 
it's too humid here, we're all breathing in half a lungful of air and half a lungful of turgid, lukewarm water. every time i think of you and that ridiculous bear-man-type hat that you were so excited to wear over there i have to stifle a laugh. 
oh, you.
come home. 

© 2011 twinsets


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Added on January 15, 2011
Last Updated on January 15, 2011
Tags: sam

Author

twinsets
twinsets

Sydney, Australia



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ohhh you know how it is. i tend to dabble. and i don't often finish things! more..

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