Read Poem: The #2 Bus, by Zaric Reed

Deep in the caverns of a narcissistic heart, I have
fallen for your elegance.

The way that you wear those tight, short frilly
expensive things—poured into fabric like the dye that
defines.

What would I do for you, to get you? To keep you to
slay you, then lay beside you—awaiting any signs of
movement from you. Awaiting your wake.

As you yawn and stretch—laying your head on my
shoulder in such a fashion, maybe pretending that
you’ve been doing that for years. You hold me close
and whisper a lie—saying that you wish to never ever
leave my hovel. But your man is waiting for you at
home. I offer you something to eat, and you decline as
you shower in hot water and no soap. You are dressed
in a flash and out the door—no kiss, no hug no lies.
As I peer through the blinds, I watch you tap your
foot while staring at your watch. Waiting for the #2
bus.

Author: poetryfest

Submit your Poetry to the Festival. Three Options: 1) To post. 2) To have performed by an actor 3) To be made into a film. View all posts by poetryfest