down pale cheeks of defining softness
her hair is my favorite perfume
her shape down the hallway through the
dividing door, tea in hand, cigarette in the
other is silent poetry.
her quiet voice excites in me hope for change, she is my first failed revolution
there is nothing old in her, except pain of youth
her paintings are her children
she dresses each of them with contextual care
she showed me, in her absence, my bed is far to large
for me alone
she introduced me to the sun, and as of late, i have lost that acquaintance.
her mother called me "child", and swore on the road of her history she saw in me a smoldering beneath the eyes.
we lie, like clasped hands, in a perfect shape undefined.
i kept the tea bags from our first kiss, and threw out the coffee grounds from our last.
...and then dug them out, speck by speck.
exit small prison, and walk in the freedom of a larger one.
i am captive and captor.
i match my breathe with hers. her back and legs match-inch for inch-that of my own.
i found her. and she found me. we built a home witout a key.
she came bearing gifts and left as a thief
she steals my sleep. i abandon her in emptied bottles and piles of cigarette ash.
only to wake at 1 in the morning to her knuckles on my window-i cant escape her. i am to proud a coward.
so its down the stairs and the door opens.
she sets down her bags and unfold her day to me.
i cant breathe. my fingers wage war on each other beneath the table.
i retreat to the closet, i open the flask and inhale honesty through blurred eyes.
she drifts to the kitchen and finds the wine and two glasses.
i say " no thanks" as she tops me off. i get thirsty. "i am tired" she whispers and empties that last drops.
our shoes come off and we climb the five-step ladder up into my loft. my nest. i have things unseen and dreams unsaid in that atmosphere. she is slow to steady her breathing. myself, lost to her scent, wrap her in all my blankets. i give my shirt as a pillow-now my arms crossed coffin-style, i am careful not to disturb her. she resist the comfort and backs into me, her contour fitting mine, i, i, i love her one last time. she reaches over and makes my arm her final covering. i hold her and pretend love is real and now. i count her breathes and find the number numbing- she sleeps as i paste her smile, like poloroid photographs in my head.
morning comes and cleans the silent film that was last night.
we dress. she puts water to boil. i light her cigarette.
i am content with never seeing her again.
then we make plans for never and tomorrow. the sun shines through the window, reminding that last night was and never again. the light, comes through in dusty rivers across the living room, the shadows of blinds cast parallel bars across the table, the chairs, our faces- a fictional prison for part-time actors.
we bleed out into the street,arm in arm, and my feet are dragging. i cant see. she pulls and pulls and lets me free. she didnt give up as much as never tried. i am to blame, she never lied or led on, i just have knack for hearing what i want and seeing what i need- reality never meant much to me anyhow.
i live in dreams and i always win.
...she just makes me feel.
so it goes.
her hair is my favorite perfume
her shape down the hallway through the
dividing door, tea in hand, cigarette in the
other is silent poetry.
her quiet voice excites in me hope for change, she is my first failed revolution
there is nothing old in her, except pain of youth
her paintings are her children
she dresses each of them with contextual care
she showed me, in her absence, my bed is far to large
for me alone
she introduced me to the sun, and as of late, i have lost that acquaintance.
her mother called me "child", and swore on the road of her history she saw in me a smoldering beneath the eyes.
we lie, like clasped hands, in a perfect shape undefined.
i kept the tea bags from our first kiss, and threw out the coffee grounds from our last.
...and then dug them out, speck by speck.
exit small prison, and walk in the freedom of a larger one.
i am captive and captor.
i match my breathe with hers. her back and legs match-inch for inch-that of my own.
i found her. and she found me. we built a home witout a key.
she came bearing gifts and left as a thief
she steals my sleep. i abandon her in emptied bottles and piles of cigarette ash.
only to wake at 1 in the morning to her knuckles on my window-i cant escape her. i am to proud a coward.
so its down the stairs and the door opens.
she sets down her bags and unfold her day to me.
i cant breathe. my fingers wage war on each other beneath the table.
i retreat to the closet, i open the flask and inhale honesty through blurred eyes.
she drifts to the kitchen and finds the wine and two glasses.
i say " no thanks" as she tops me off. i get thirsty. "i am tired" she whispers and empties that last drops.
our shoes come off and we climb the five-step ladder up into my loft. my nest. i have things unseen and dreams unsaid in that atmosphere. she is slow to steady her breathing. myself, lost to her scent, wrap her in all my blankets. i give my shirt as a pillow-now my arms crossed coffin-style, i am careful not to disturb her. she resist the comfort and backs into me, her contour fitting mine, i, i, i love her one last time. she reaches over and makes my arm her final covering. i hold her and pretend love is real and now. i count her breathes and find the number numbing- she sleeps as i paste her smile, like poloroid photographs in my head.
morning comes and cleans the silent film that was last night.
we dress. she puts water to boil. i light her cigarette.
i am content with never seeing her again.
then we make plans for never and tomorrow. the sun shines through the window, reminding that last night was and never again. the light, comes through in dusty rivers across the living room, the shadows of blinds cast parallel bars across the table, the chairs, our faces- a fictional prison for part-time actors.
we bleed out into the street,arm in arm, and my feet are dragging. i cant see. she pulls and pulls and lets me free. she didnt give up as much as never tried. i am to blame, she never lied or led on, i just have knack for hearing what i want and seeing what i need- reality never meant much to me anyhow.
i live in dreams and i always win.
...she just makes me feel.
so it goes.
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