SOUR MILK

I hold my breath as I watch the seconds on the clock tick. 

The short hand is working but the long hand is stuck, 

Like me. 

Waiting for my date to show up 

A Blind date 

A couple of messages here and there.

I ask myself, “What am I doing here” 

I am never this reckless 

 

It’s 8:55 seemingly forever. 

What if he doesn’t show up, what if he does 

He sees me and turns around 

Maybe I am not what he wanted 

 

You ask what my fear is, so causally coined 

On a first date

Within a game of 20 questions. 

And questions deserve answers 

As answers demand more questions 

And I guess I am questioning if I’ll ever fall in love 

Or better yet, if someone will love me 

I am fearful and quiet as I see a glance across the room 

Or a silly DM hidden away. 

I do not look at them 

Or you. 

 

I am afraid of getting hurt 

Left, again.

And all of these things twist in turn in my stomach 

Like sour milk left out too long on summer day 

That is when It happened

One summer day, I told you I didn’t love you 

I lied

We said our goodbyes 

And now, years later 

I am on a date 

Waiting, it’s 8:58 

And I decide to go home. 

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This poem is about: 
Me
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