Some kind of grey,
Words feel incomplete.
Some kind of misery,
Reality creeps in through the shattered window.
What have I done? Is this me? Would I do this in the right state of mind?
Forgive me! Please! I WOULD NEVER DO SUCH A THING EVER!
You know I was angry. You know I would not dare to mar your perfect being.
And that darn phone call made me hate your existence
Not just yours, everything around me.
I should have not shown my temper,
You did not have to see my version of what the words ‘longing, rusted, seventeen, daybreak, furnace, nine, benign, homecoming, one, freight car’ does to Bucky.
I am so sorry. You were not my outlet, I promise you.
– A mental apology to the book I was reading on which I threw my double shot espresso.
There are a few prompts posted by J.R. Rogue (https://jrrogue.com/) one for each day in November and I thought to give it a try.
Well if not anything, you will get some shabby amateur poetry to laugh your butt off at.