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10w
argo Sep 2015
10w
i want your body, not the weight of your shadow.
this line was in my drafts so wtvs
12w
argo Sep 2015
12w
there is so much of you
and less of me to love
that line just popped in my head excuse me
argo Sep 2015
that our mouths can tourniquet leaking wrists is a lie:
whereby omission is its own truth, whereby the act of forgetting
is a kind of betrayal. clock warps. to self. to forget
that our bodies know the dance
and suffer no fools: the bed is a chalk outline/ a coup/ a nest of
mottled corpses seeping at the bottom of a dumpster/
that if we boulder onto each other again theres the likelihood of
chance: which is a kind of grievance not easily payed.

what have we abandoned that we cannot spare? only what we suffer from/ what is taken/ what is discarded survive.
the gory bits. the ugly ones.
the pieces that become us.
wip
argo Sep 2015
where: wood-carved shelves arch over the kitchen window and marbled countertop sops up daylight,
half a sofa sleeps across mementos hung solemnly on a wall
where: rain descends on the balcony, drumming angrily on the spanish tiled floor while a radio plays pop!
where: water stains are scenery and the bed, a witness -
where: the smell of pancakes and the sound of mom and dad waking you up in the morning, the blankets are soft and your skin is talcum,
where: the clouds
are still
your friends -

now the clock tells time and you ask where they go

when all the furniture is gone a house will still feel full
because everyone leaves
something
of them
behind

and you are always so
full
of everyone

where: the dust settle and ghost occupy the attic
and every nook

they always forget
where you remember
wip

— The End —