Who is he

The sky looked like a bruise, purple warped with gray-ish white. The clouds looked like thunder- but the air was dry. We sat there not speaking. I could feel my lips drying out from the hot air forcefully blowing out of the dash board. We aren’t speaking, we might be mad at each other. But honestly I don’t even know anymore. I just find it easier not to talk to him. It doesn’t even matter what I say; everything just turns back into tension and silence. I turn on the radio, 99.5 classical music station. All of the greatest hits from the renascence to the 1890’s! Well, I like it. He immediately let out an aggressive sigh. After that he changed it to 102.5 country. I love music! I like every type of music– except for country. ‘Come on- can’t we just’ ‘Emma stop!’. At this moment I am really missing the silence. I feel like we don’t even know each other. Ever since he left for SC I feel like we’re so disconnected. No it started before that. We’re only 4 years apart. It feels like 4 centuries. He keeps driving, it fees like we’re barely moving. I don’t even remember where we’re going & I don’t care. I like the drive. I like looking down at the endless pavement. I like it when time stays still. I like it when we’re together.


Reality is a Show

I pretend not to be upset.
I pretend that I don’t hear the whispers,
the quiet remarks you make about me.
I pretend that I don’t see;
see the way you look at me
I pretend that I don’t care.
I pretend to be comfortable with who I am.
I pretend to know who I am.
But really I’ve been pretending for so long,
that I don’t know who the fuck I am.