there is a part of you i know—
and already love
the part that sits me up on your bed and tells me stories of
yourself with bright brown eyes and
luscious lips
takes me as a whole pill in the
middle of the night
silently collapsing on top of me
( not ripping or tearing)
just softly removing
abstract pieces of my hips
and stuffing them like orchid petals
in your hands
that is the part i understand and can communicate with exceptionally well
that is the part i consume
day after day when you’re no
longer around
but there is another part—
full of questions and concerns
and blank expressions in the middle of
the day watching football
drinking beers and not wanting
to ignite the magical chemistry
the sensuality you possess most of the
time when no one is there
and you are laughing so loud and
talking about things i don’t know
anything about and your
bright brown eyes turn into
silver wings and i’m trying trying
trying trying to keep up
steadily
but i get lost in your sea of
child like gestures and weak
thoughts; in your attempts to
make me eat food and smile on
que; in your belly where the guilt
sets in for something you know i
did not do;
in you,
without strong hands and
heavy eyelids without come heres
and delicate kisses without
these things the days pile up
and taste like
rubbing alcohol
Jul 27, 2011
Jul 27, 2011 at 8:05 PM UTC
there is a part of you i know—
and already love
the part that sits me up on your bed and tells me stories of
yourself with bright brown eyes and
luscious lips
takes me as a whole pill in the
middle of the night
silently collapsing on top of me
( not ripping or tearing)
just softly removing
abstract pieces of my hips
and stuffing them like orchid petals
in your hands
that is the part i understand and can communicate with exceptionally well
that is the part i consume
day after day when you’re no
longer around
but there is another part—
full of questions and concerns
and blank expressions in the middle of
the day watching football
drinking beers and not wanting
to ignite the magical chemistry
the sensuality you possess most of the
time when no one is there
and you are laughing so loud and
talking about things i don’t know
anything about and your
bright brown eyes turn into
silver wings and i’m trying trying
trying trying to keep up
steadily
but i get lost in your sea of
child like gestures and weak
thoughts; in your attempts to
make me eat food and smile on
que; in your belly where the guilt
sets in for something you know i
did not do;
in you,
without strong hands and
heavy eyelids without come heres
and delicate kisses without
these things the days pile up
and taste like
rubbing alcohol
Request permission to use this poem