Sydney Berman

moving on/away

kind-of hope
you don’t miss
me

a lack of a lack of
second thought

you take what I give but
you don’t give
what you took

it bothers me
that it doesn’t bother you that
it bothers me

I am often standing
on the platform of
paralysis – I have no
roadmap, no way of
knowing when I turned
the wrong way:

should have held on more tight–
ly to my heart, high-school friends,
grades, your swiss army knife


what they don’t understand / why I think they try to

met him
in the middle, but you
swerved
to the
left   lane


your friends wonder
why a first date
gone   right
leaves cuticles to–
rn, tub of ice cream


  empty;
gut churning, knuckles cracking


“…he hasn’t called,”
and a     c r u m p l i n g
into buzz–ing
finger   tips


weight
      of the love in
     your heart with
  
    nowhere

to go

she wears cartier to class and her eyes match her jeans; her eyeliner is always even; I heard she’s never had a boyfriend because she gets attached too quick—my friend went to this museum with her once but he just wasn’t into it; apparently her hair isn’t really that color, did you know she got an internship in the city? I’ve never even seen her studying but I saw that acceptance letter: her essay got published last year in a journal but I think it’s because her mom is the editor

 


Sydney Berman is a first-year student studying Business Management and French at Boston University. She loves writing, although she has never been able to part long enough from her journals to get her work published. She is the director of Social Justice at BU Hillel, plays guitar in her dorm while her roommates are in class, and enjoys (while she does not excel at) ski racing.