Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
montag runs Sep 2012
I'm thinking sweet
a cuba libre darling
brown thighs
molasses loving
slow
tell me my
memories are all
wrong
oh darling sweet
voice you have
call me home
montag runs Apr 2012
the colour drifts
held and split-tastes
and chooses, abhorrent
to friction- spins
and underbelly to sun
dives deep-

                    emerges
the colour drifts
montag runs Apr 2012
the colour drifts
held and split-tastes
and chooses, abhorrent
to friction- spins
and underbelly to sun
dives deep-

                    emerges
the colour drifts
montag runs Apr 2012
the colour drifts
held and split-tastes
and chooses, abhorrent
to friction- spins
and underbelly to sun
dives deep-

                    emerges
the colour drifts
montag runs Apr 2012
these arms that
laboured once past
pain and thought, lay
now empty at  a  
loss
and staring eyes
refuse tears

and my throat
awaits a cry
this loss, silent
a haunt unannounced
montag runs Jan 2012
I have no words
for this

I could look askance
catch a sight of
you, but hold only
what I lost
like a taste
I cant chase
a breath drawn and then
exhaled

I am lost
of you
montag runs Jan 2012
a flag listless
hangs- a song unsung
children chant, await
and chant again,
and run- give chase
to all that will run
as well
the breath that stirs-
awaits
and the madness of a
clear blue sky
thirsts the bake
_____

I once, a child was
Next page