untitled because i’m sleepy.


There are certain people that come along

that make you want to cry

when you think of losing them..

That make you want to cry

when they hurt you, or, perhaps worse,

when you hurt them, and they try to hide it.

Let me take out my science kit and assess the situation;

mark down the grave I’ll lay you in

take out a spatula and dig the hole; pencil in a beauty mark

and say the world is gray and stark.

And I know you think I’ve missed the mark,

but heavens I know

that when this is over and we tally up the scores

I want to be close to you;

so close that if I lose it, I can grip and rip your T-shirt;

hold on so tight I draw blood;

fall to the mud and clench my teeth and groan

when the end comes.

And God knows—I’ve told him a thousand times—that

I don’t want the end to come;

but I don’t know what to do with the interim.

I don’t have time to waste, and here I sit, wasting it,

because the end scares me so much I’m paralyzed

with the time I’ve been given;

sitting, wasting, procrastinating. 

So when I lose you, whenever I do, now or eighty years and one

sunless afternoon or moonless night,

when I lose you I want you close enough to tear to shreds.

Beat upon and gnash and hold so very, very close,

because you’re one of the people that makes me want to cry

when you hurt me, and I try to hide it.

                               – Written by E.R. Womelsduff


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