Sunday 11/01/2020 11:34:00 PM

 she said it's color more than light. the way we see ourselves. each other. it's shadows and corners. angles mired in perspective. as our choices unravel. 

she chafed against the friction of time. the loud music of when. the stilted rhythm of how.and all the missing lyrics we had accumulated during the hysteria of living. 

she said the words were gone. lost to broken blood vessels and quivering limbs. 

we frantically tried to climb ladders without rungs. we hurried to put our stitches into seams long gone. 

she said, the crayons had lost all their color. i knew they were gone for good. 

she said, flesh has its own set of rules. it's only borrowed. it's a debt that will always be collected. 

0 comments:


| Alcoholic Poet Home |
Copyright 2005-2018. All Rights Reserved.