I long
like
something plush weeping
into a pillowed hug
of empty oxygen
though I try the Brave Game,
(and usually win)
flakes of me run
off my arms and face
and scrounge around the corners of the room
looking for your mellow sting.
supposedly,
“heartache”
is figurative.
But I definitely feel
a s t r e t c h i n g
mush
right where
the Doctors say my heart
should probably be
a slight tremor
( echoes )
through every joint
of my toy frame,
like a thousand elfin voices talking
about your favorite foods,
and the color of your hugs.
the tightening
muscles of my throat
send their regards to your
amicable eyes
2.5 is a smallish bird
when one observes
the blue expanse of my ocean life
but it pecks my most tender tissues
when I sit [flat] inside Today.
I miss
like
someone resized my skin
incompetently.
though I am grateful
for your delicate absence
(the elusive Good deserves you most)
I feel as if
the petty bird’s wing tensions
won’t be satisfied
with the look of my dappled shoulders
till you stroke them densely
with your matter-of-fact fingers.
Nov 12, 2013
Nov 12, 2013 at 6:19 PM UTC
I long
like
something plush weeping
into a pillowed hug
of empty oxygen
though I try the Brave Game,
(and usually win)
flakes of me run
off my arms and face
and scrounge around the corners of the room
looking for your mellow sting.
supposedly,
“heartache”
is figurative.
But I definitely feel
a s t r e t c h i n g
mush
right where
the Doctors say my heart
should probably be
a slight tremor
( echoes )
through every joint
of my toy frame,
like a thousand elfin voices talking
about your favorite foods,
and the color of your hugs.
the tightening
muscles of my throat
send their regards to your
amicable eyes
2.5 is a smallish bird
when one observes
the blue expanse of my ocean life
but it pecks my most tender tissues
when I sit [flat] inside Today.
I miss
like
someone resized my skin
incompetently.
though I am grateful
for your delicate absence
(the elusive Good deserves you most)
I feel as if
the petty bird’s wing tensions
won’t be satisfied
with the look of my dappled shoulders
till you stroke them densely
with your matter-of-fact fingers.
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