PoemsBrowse PoemsSlamsFresh DropEchoes
LearnWriting TipsPoetry TermsPoets & ArtistsBooksFor Teachers
ExplorePoetry GenomePoem MapEchoesTake ActionGroups
AboutWrite a PoemDonateSign UpLog In

One Of Us


Present in class,

under the antiseptic light of the lecture hall my words infect the air,

and my fat brass opinion dissipates into discussion.

The next hand raises

 

Absent in mind,

the pad of my thumb swings, I pretend infantile Instagram pixels

scream as they’re flung off the screen. I see your smile.

The next hand raises

 

Present in my neck,

forced to grasp — fail to gasp — dagger of reality in my throat

snags the hem of my breath. With chills the cleanest, softest tears fall from me.

The next hand raises

 

Present in memory,

grainy hallucination of VHS-quality clips materialize and play back our playdates with pain;

we only met to feed parasitic fleas and howl as mortals sleep.

The next hand raises

 

Absent in tomorrows,

the you I knew fled those with me, racing hell’s hotwired madness-mobiles

fueled by our preferred pill, drink, drug, pain — I never knew you sober.

The next hand raises

 

Present is the guilt,

struggle make out hostile whispers from the sterile hum of fluorescent bulbs.

translated, they spit that I don’t deserve to mourn someone’s life that I do not know but

You were one of us.

 

Class ends. Hands leave, attached to their respective bodies.
I can not move.

You could not either,

You never raise a hand in a coma.

You will not move again.

You can not get high in a grave. No

 

you can only twinkle in distant black space of my mind now,

sweet small prickles inside my eyes.

 

Absent from the present,

a backpack shoves my petrified shoulder, the twang of guilt reveals itself in a cocktail

exposing the meager hint of sour, twisted jealousy mixed with hot undeserved understanding.

 

 

I am alone now. The stillness accuses me of murder.

I can not move.

We could not stop,

We never talked about who would be first.

We will never meet again.

We can not save each other. No

 

we were a galactic system of dying giants, sweltering cores, burning atmospheres, swallowing meteors and crossing orbits in our infinite vacuum.

 

I can no longer feel the pull of your gravity,

only the lust of dark matter from the collapse of your star

I stand against the magnetism of a black hole,

exit the auditorium and return to earth.

 

my softest tears fall for you.

You were one of us.

 
©All Rights Reserved

Something wrong with this poem?

Share

Replies are closed for this poem.

If you or someone you know is struggling, you are not alone.

988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline — call or text 988, 24/7. Crisis Text Line — text HELLO to 741741.

shmay

artist, play advocate, poet. poetry is preserved history & art is the fossil of the mind.

View all poems →

Your Poem's Voice

See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.

Comments (0)

Comments are closed for this poem.