One Of My Favorite Poems

Hi!

I’m finally home for the summer, and thought I’d share one of my favorite poems with you to celebrate!

What is your favorite poem?

Let me know, and have an awesome day!

xxoo

“What the Hour Hand Said to the Minute Hand”

By: Megan Falley

 

“At 7:35 A.M, you lay your tired body on mine
before peeling off, like a slow band-aid.

At 8:40 you sprint home and make instant coffee.

At 9:45 we finally drink it, cold.
I finish your leftover half.

By 10:50 you are already breathless.
I live for every time we overlap.

When 11:55 comes I spend the entire minute convincing you to stay. 
You never do.

By noon I put my hands on your shoulders and say, “Baby, 
you’re getting thin. All this running in circles and barely sitting down to eat.”

At 1:05 you tell me that while you were gone,
15,300 babies were born.

At 2:10 you don’t say a word,
just come in and kiss me for sixty seconds straight.

At 3:15 we sit quiet, listening to rain falling everywhere 
in the world at once: all 15,000 tons.

At 4:20 we pull a little from the tight joint I keep behind your ear.
You do not inhale.

At 5:25 you meet me for happy hour. 
My neck already salted, a lime wedged in my teeth,
a shot of tequila sitting on the bar.

At 6:30 I hear the ticking.
I count your heartbeat like seconds between thunderclaps.

By 7:35 I can see you in the distance, 
each second a tease until you drape over me. 
We always love quick and you never let me hold you.
I dream of drinking you through a straw.

At 8:40 you watch my beard grow 0.00027 of an inch.

At 9:45 we do not speak.
Too many people have died since we last met.

At 10:50 we pray for a meteor, 
at least a clumsy kid to spill sugar in our gears.

11:55 is my favorite.
We’re only apart for mere minutes.

But at midnight you’ll apologize sixty times
because it will always be like this.

At 1:04 AM I am already sleeping. 
It’s exhausting loving someone
who is constantly running away.

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4 thoughts on “One Of My Favorite Poems

  1. walttriznastories

    One of my favorites is by Langston Hughes:

    Impasse

    I could tell you,
    If I wanted to,
    What makes me
    What I am.

    But I don’t
    Really want to-
    And you don’t
    Give a damn.

    Liked by 1 person

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