Socks

That face you made frightened the socks
Off me. Help me go look for them.

In the park. Beyond that last street lamp.
You can’t be scared. This is your fault.

The park is dark except sharp lights;
A serrated knife’s edge glistening.

You can’t be scared. This is your fault.
I’ll hold your hand. Don’t wet yourself.

Cling. Don’t pull. Don’t dare to fall
I’ll leave you here— I love those socks.

The park is dark and too quiet.
I hear your heart’s rigid rhythms spit.

Hear the shrill sound of your bones screech.
Hear the red blood pumping underneath

Your soft, wet neck. Don’t sweat too much.
You can’t be scared. This is your fault.

I’ll leave you alone if you freeze your feet.
I’ll leave you alone in this placental dark.

All I care is my socks. If you don’t behave
I’ll leave you for dead after finding them.

Remember this: You can’t be scared.
This is all your fault.




Poetry by Sameen The PoetBay support member heart!
Written on 2025-11-13 at 16:15

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