Static

Photo by Frank Albrecht on Unsplash

I have a bad habit
of adding glitter where it doesn’t belong.
Memorizing and screaming the words
to all of your most-hated songs.
I’m still sleeping
with clenched fists.
Dreaming of rusted, dying suns
and static rain
bleeding down my window pane,
drowning out all other sounds
on the airwaves.

And you,
you just keep dancing along anyway.
Skipping through puddles
collecting at the base
of my cracked foundation.
Flooding the darkest parts of me
with love.

Baby,
I fucking hate this song.
Turn the volume up.

© Gina Clingan 2017

From my book, Everything After, which can be purchased here.