the intentions of finishing, lareisa griner.

the smell of shit smothers the small talk dropped so casually under these lights. so i left-

sick and tired of the same B.S. and where does that leave you?

-still under those same spotty lights.

see, the jokes on you, man.

i’ve slithered on by, snickering at the sight of some “chivalrous” guy who just

doesn’t.

get it.

right.

there is no point to stop and stare,

instead i just leave him.

alone.

standing. still talking

-oblivious to his passing audience’s glare.

without any second thoughts, no hopes for tomorrows lonely-love-let’s-meet scenario,

just demands on something more substantial than that which has tried to be handed into-

these hands, and

this heart, and

this mind cannot take another lousy start with something that never had the intentions of

finishing.

so bring on someone better. worth my time,

worth my standing there

and listening.

LAREISA G. }
writing in silences
the reincarnation of feelings