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oliviacarter2 Community member
Autoplay OFF   •   a year ago
Sunchips As I sit here in the shell of what used to be my bedroom I pretend I am a writer


As I sit here in the shell of what used to be my bedroom I pretend I am a writer

I read Bukowski for inspiration, and of course think of you

Although I am sure you don't read poetry you always seem to find a way into my head

Even if I don't want you there

That isn't to say I don't like you, I do

However I am not supposed to

Which is to say, you do not choose who you love

The volcano that sits at the pit of my stomach is at the brink of eruption

You offer to drive me home even though it is out of your way

And the volcano explodes with happiness and excitement

And maybe also butterflies but you can't know that yet

I know nothing will happen, you respect me and my hopefully past relationship too much

But listening to the songs that you send me in your car is enough for now

The first night you drove me, we listened to nothing but each other's voices the whole ride home

I thought my smile would stay stuck forever

Unfortunately, like all good things it must come to an end

I offer gas money which you never accept, even though you drive an hour back home

Hopefully you learned by now that all the money you don't accept goes to sunchips I get for you at work

Not necessarily to repay you for the car ride and happiness you have given me, but just because I know you like them

You do however agree to text me when you get home

Just when I thought the eruption inside me would end you appear on my phone

The lava from inside breaks through my smile along with endless butterflies

This is the closest to happiness I have been in a long time

This is the first positive poem I have wrote in a long time

Not because of Bukowski but because of you

You are the inspiration I didn't know I had

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