The Write Poems: Vacant

I haven't posted a poem in ages, especially since I have been workshopping a lot of my pieces, but since I wrote this nearly a half an hour after my blog post, I'm kind of feeling myself - blog and poem all in one day in the span of an hour. Plus it was one of those Here write a poem moments via text with my dear writing biffle (If I keep calling him that, he will disown me). Plus it's an excuse to come up with a new section - The Write Poems.

Vacant

I wonder who else I may be lost to.

The stage is lit, the crowd full,
but my struggle is bee-lined to you -
an apocalypse in the middle of 
book writing and a girl's night out,
vacant eyes dreaming our moments
against vibrating speakers or
with fingers in mid-air, keyboard 
waiting stiffly beneath my fingers.

Voices rattle around my ear drums, 
hushed against the silent movie of our 
memories - repeat repeated over and over 
until one of my friends or the 
gentle buzzing of the screen 
wordlessly touch the back of my neck,

the stage lights dimming down as I pull 
in another tale beneath the folds of my chest, 
a gentle smile that cannot climb 
to my eyes, mouths the words

"I'm here."



Then the glorious editing suggestions. I like this version too, though it takes out a good line.



Edit:

Vacant

I wonder who else I may be lost to.

apocalypse in the middle of 
book writing and a girl's night out,
vacant eyes dreaming our moments
against vibrating speakers or 
with fingers in mid-air, keyboard 
waiting stiffly beneath my fingers.

Voices rattle around my ear drums, 
hushed against our memories - 
repeat repeated over and over 
until one of my friends or the 
gentle buzzing of the screen 
wordlessly touch the back of my neck,

lights dimming down as I pull 
in another tale beneath the folds of my chest, 
a gentle smile that cannot climb 
to my eyes, mouths the words

"I'm here."


Opinions? Comments are always welcome.