Who Knew Poetry

I'm Amanda. I'm a "struggling actor" based in New York. I like to pretend I am a secret poet. Maybe I am, maybe not. Either way, it's fun.

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Wed Jul 2

I’m stuck and I care

I can’t write and you’re there

And your hands grow these nails

And these nails graze your skin

And all my heart pulls for

Is to let your light in

But nothing will tighten these bolts in my feet

And turn all these screws

And make us complete

Wrenching and wretching and writhing and stop.

And breathing is harder than drowning in drops

Of salt laden water, a stream of our tears

I feel your right hand as it eases my fears

And soon it is broken and falling away

I know I need two hands

to send up and pray.

But no one is listening

And I’ve lost a limb

Swimming in water

distilled and all grim

Wading through sewage of pain that I’ve caused

I can’t help but tremble and shake as I pause

To scream at the silence that fills up my skull

And argue with ghosts

And wish I were full

Fill me in.

Falling in.

And I wait for your hand.