It's Not Jealousy

My feet crash into the gleaming shiny halls of a building.
'Squeak' The thin layer of imported rubber starts the chilling.
Bone beginning to ache and heart beginning to pace from
the mere wait of someone. The smell of my old skate shoes
rise to the noses of others.

Oh well, that's their problem

Because right now, my legs shake and my head continues trobbin.
Like sweat seeping through a gray t-shirt.
The issue is invisible at first, but grows to be an embarrassment.
Because I'm sitting here waiting for someone.
Some thing I've attempted to cure and some one I've attempted to change.

Oh wow, the insanity of my own self.

How did it all boil down to changing something so perfect...
As if it wasn't perfect at all.

My feet continue to race in circles within the empty hall.
Walls contain my thoughts, for some were not meant for all.
You erupt from a doorway with doors left to a horizontal free-fall.
Did you come to please me or did you come to attack me at raw.
Tell me of your good times with him. Tell me of your laughs.
Tell me what he's done to win, the secrets of your past.

For you have yet to tell the so-called "Love of Your Life".
While I'm left with the thermometer on sixty; my skin pale and white.
"Oh I'll take another anti or painkiller to pass the night",
but right now, what I feel is the true meaning of a jagged knife.
Rough edges but smooth upon top. "Never quite satisfying enough",
I've heard your damned truths. My love has never been enough for you.

So I'll leave you to your friends and I'll leave you to your guy,
but know that I didn't react over your simple lie.
I gave you myself in whole, only to receive the partial gift of
"I love you" from that never-ending bowl. I now see why he
has taken more than I. Because he can. Its ok now. Fine.
I realize your affection no longer shy.

Author's Note

It's really up to you to figure out...

Reviews

[Bhavya Kaushik]

Hmmm...This was totally random and abstract for me..
For me, this is a kind of poem which we-poets write at the time when we desperately needs to write about something, but a single plot does not sustains in our minds. This finally results into a poem of not a single plot and that is how it becomes totally abstract.
But, in any manner it doesn't mean that being abstract means being good or being bad.
Being abstract shows how flawless a writer can be..and it is a good thing.
Ya, in between I enjoyed reading this as well :)
Nice work.

[Weaza]

I love it, its not a poem that is forced to keep a scheme through out the poem. I like that its relatible and people can understand and be apart of it, really good job!
Continue Writing :]

~Weaza~

[Kira]

Some of the rhymes seem forced, and the rhyme scheme kept changing around, but I liked it. :):)

I could imagine this set to music, but having it spoken by the kind of voice you hear in the background during car commercials...is that weird?