There’s no light that comes
when the day crashes to the ground
and bruises.
It fades, weaving and gliding through
places where we once left
our ghosts.
Watch them; now they laugh,
now they mock our sullen eyes
and dance.
Watch as they soak up
the brightness of our minds
and fade.
They quiver, then vanish
from the hollow places inside
our heads.
Aug 31, 2012
Aug 31, 2012 at 2:08 PM UTC
So,
do you have words to say?
Do you have places to be?
Are you seeing things
the way you describe them?
The world, the universe?
Are your eyes like mine?
Aug 31, 2012
Aug 31, 2012 at 2:05 PM UTC
I can’t wait for the day he feels me all over,
rough hands roaming clumsily on skin.
Wait till I show him
the things his body aches for.
Aug 31, 2012
Aug 31, 2012 at 2:05 PM UTC
In a way
he became me
for a moment.
If anyone happened
to present themselves to me
at that particular time -
music pulsing,
heads nodding,
bodies moving
against hot hands and chests -
I’d like to believe
he’d answer for me.
Be my voice,
speak for me
while I’m away
underneath his skin.
Be my hands;
gesture loosely
at the things he’d think I’d say.
My apologies
I am not here;
speak to the man who,
just for a moment,
has become me.
Aug 31, 2012
Aug 31, 2012 at 12:06 PM UTC