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354 · Aug 2016
Rancid
Allison Baxter Aug 2016
The pitter patter of your whisper
Warmer than vegetables in the crisper
Flat skin between my ear and cheek
The bandana preferred me not speak

You make me feel lovely    
Lavender in the air around thee
You make me think rudely
Back of scratches would allude to me

The stupid roses you got
Standing there, a complete geek
Something poetic you said i forgot
A dozen kisses never got to speak

The fan disappointed, even on high
Listening to Whole Lotta Love
This fahrenheit oh my!
My dear I held everything above

******* on my ear
My eye landed on thy dear
Fingers rubbing through my hair
Merely so, a sly affair

The night was stained with wine
Hand washed the morning after
In cold water specifically
A silk robe clung to me, quite fittingly

On my motorola I dialed
An electrician would come tomorrow
I look at the love letters compiled
And notice my coffee, grown mild

Going over the night at least seven times
Thoughts dirtier than eleven crimes
Above my head floating, like tethered astronauts
Thinking all of my treasured afterthoughts

Eventually dreamt up my fantasies of you
On the end table sat my gloves, quite blue
I made sure always keep track of the two
I spent my whole life looking for you

And finally turning fake memories into real ones
In terms of weight and emotions, I feel tons
Until the weight of the night anchors my lids shut
I will spend the night thinking of who forbids what
298 · Jul 2017
Damage
Allison Baxter Jul 2017
If i’d let you do me damage
i’d disguise my blood as paint
in a portrait I’d do of you
crimson with an ochre taint.

It’d be hung on a wall
that’d fall with the wind
aside an aged tree,
solemnly, sparsely limbed.

The rubble and soil
would finish the brawl,
for my fists would be
scathed by nightfall.

For your eyes
i’d mistake two plumbs.
The unknown is always shadowed
by a foliage blessed by it’s sons.

If I’d let you do me damage,
turn me over to abstraction,
it’d end more sullen than stone.
More than the moon waxen.
247 · Aug 2016
Tenderly
Allison Baxter Aug 2016
Not one to push an opinion
Not one to take a stance
Show me your definition
and upon it I would dance

Concerning others business
I’m anything but engrossed
Just because i should be
I’m not the one who knows most

My hand covers my mouth
To others affairs i am deaf
My lips declare not a thing
I’m introverted af

At no time do my teeth
part to speak with foul tongue
If I were to do so
The bitter i would be among

Wish i spoke in Beatles lyrics
Cause the intent of my words
Is apart from what i say
Remaining silent like sleeping birds

Cold sheets of applause
Lungs clenching in trepidation
At least that's how i interpret
The way it folds out in damnation

I’m told my hands mold worthy things
Of mind blowing things alone
Vacant voice but blistered palms
My hands I do not own

Incapable to explain with mastery
Can't communicate ideas accurately
Leave lookers perplexed and spaced out
Confusion comes to me naturally

Never meant to be arrogant
Nor brash nor bold
Declaring these things a sin
Let the rosemary blushing begin

Left misunderstood and misinterpreted
Hopelessness held at the end of my brush
All my energy mixed into the paint
An oil can only say so much
229 · Jul 2017
Bar Soap
Allison Baxter Jul 2017
Last night’s stains
Forever engrained

A treasured recollection
24 hours pure perfection

Sweaters dry and dull
Resulting from a washing lull

I know you from sight
That dusty night

A sweet exhalation escaping
Clothesline laundry draping

Words sweet and fuzzy
Warmth behind eyes, dustly

I know you from touch
A little linger never clutch

I finish the basket folding
Thoughts already molding

And think of tomorrow
All the other days not a sorrow
212 · Jul 2017
Lady
Allison Baxter Jul 2017
She wore a weak leg,
two hands of grievance
That would often beg
Baptists bowl creedence

Slept with the sons,
whispered to the daughters
Voices like kitchen crumbs
Mumbles I never bothered

Her voice carried
In a clammy palm
That at once buried
An ancestor embalmed

Many spectators to this
This great deterioration
Out of her mouth a hiss
I hold none, no adoration

To her I owe
Many things unsaid
We live in a shivered home
In hallways she treads

But none the less
She is my lady
My skull hers to caress
My only, lovely baby
181 · Jul 2017
An Equivalence
Allison Baxter Jul 2017
Kissing you and drinking tea
Hands that quiver unsteadily
Sunlight revealing your flowery home,
and awakening my love of thee.
In my thoughts you go to roam,
proceeding so,
******* gracefully.

A cup of porcelain too light
To hold anything but two mice
My hands in the morning;
weaker than my knees last night,
and softer than the tile flooring.
Wet stones of white.

Venturing back to your room
The dusty air, turpentine fumes
Your body a formed question mark;
wanting an answer, I presumed.
The sheets over washed and harsh
Softer than the foreboding gloom

Awaiting my fated reply,
I look into my lovers eye,
then dropped my gaze in such a way
that conveyed a true lie.
In the doorway I swayed, and
began to cry.

For one has never been in such
a situation so rushed.
I said goodbye and left you
Afraid otherwise it might be too much
Bidding you adieu, and
Forever missing your touch

My breaths would become fewer
For I held an unknown future
in which death outweighed survival.
I would not allow a single viewer
to watch the heavens await my arrival
and not the wrongdoers’
177 · Jul 2017
Dear Him (tw)
Allison Baxter Jul 2017
Gravedigger of my innocence
Weeping mother grieves
Thoughtless and dressed in black
Irises no more than two little thieves
Poking out under a hat

His physique held greater than I
Hadn’t an intention of innocence
Hands stole more than eyes
And his grasp had a certain brittleness

I’m soup accompanied by bread
Catering his needs
My cauldron body *****
Read the recipe he didn’t read

Allowing myself harm
So I wouldn’t be furthered
Myself I disarm
I beg, I won’t be murdered

A grand feast after a laboring day
I was neither deserved nor greatly enjoyed
Whether he earned me or not
He didn’t care, I was still destroyed

His eyes poor people not to pity
He hadn’t any grub to fill his gut
I was so unwilling I left his teeth gritty
He had me howling like a mutt!

The gaze of a man
Holds no intention of innocence
But of vile thievery
Telling of our ignobleness

A robbery of faux passion
He finished his vegetables, indeed
Next time i’ll be aware of my fashion
He only left me a nosebleed

This world is wild, I quit!
As for desert, he devoured
I was a scared banana split
His hands sticky like a coward

A female alone
Only use was his disposal
Wish I would have known
Why the hell was I so hopeful

— The End —