The Beauty In Boredom

I'm bored

I'm bored with my hair

I'm bored with my eyes

I'm bored with the rings on my fingers

and the one in my nose

I'm bored with the view

I'm bored with the conversations

I'm bored with the lessons

and the people who teach them

I'm bored with the music

I'm bored with the smells of eucalyptus

and the intro music to that show were watching

If no man is an island, can I at least be a reef?

I want jagged edges and vibrant colors

I want to house fish and algae

I want to see the dolphins

and the whales that spin under the surface

I want a life and a death

But I'm bored

which is to say my edges are smooth and gray

my doors are closed,

and I'm sitting.

This poem is titled 'the beauty in boredom'

yet all I can find is beauty in anything but this boredom

the beauty is the black sweater

the beauty is the rain

and the way you sit in your pink beanie in front of the piano I know you're dying to play.

And I can't help but think that maybe there might be some beauty in this boredom.