Touch is a treason. In a war of the absurd. Her eyes like wounded soldiers. Her smile like grenades. We wear each other in sparse threads of skin. Toiling to undo the knots that keep us together.
her lips are summer. her face is winter. the seasons change us. but on them we have little effect.
i draw my boxes. the stale geometry of if. stumbles. caught in life's moist cement.
he listens to her breathe. inspired by the prescient cadence of her sleeplessness. ledges like gods. loud and arrogant. lovers like zippers. coming undone. teeth biting everywhere. there is an opening.
her monsters are small. easily swept up in her fury. the flames from dragon's jaws. Tentative. As they wait for that burst of water. The strangle of contrition that proves the darkness.
she tastes him. in furtive licks. stolen from the fist of ogres. she feels him in the pull of years. as the world pretends to discover its villains.
she closes her eyes. confesses. that it's too far away.
she grabs the zipper. And pulls down hard. disappointed when. they can still see her.
all of her poisons too weak.
Saturday
1/28/2012 12:46:00 AM
Sad Labels:
loneliness
,
sad
| Life Poems |