i found
that suburbian
love-seats
couldn’t hold
the kind of love
i was searching
for
and ***
between
crumbling
couch cushions
slowly became a
tedious night ritual:
mountain
ranges told
me from a
first-time-
glance that
i was worth
more than
a subtle
"thank
you.”
whispered
into the
curve of my
breast.
so i left home
with holes in
my pockets
and a period
of harsh
abstinence
hanging over
my chest like
a ******* sword.
(c) jude rigor 2014
thoughts? short piece i wrote this morning.