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sb-stokesPoems
You are the pleasing smell of Chinese grease I am the invisible motivation to frolic in the fountain You are a stranger's giggle & an invitation to dance I am a Cabaret Voltaire 12" & half a clove cigarette You are the diaphanous nature of auburn clouds at twilight I am the woman who raised you but never dared speak your name You are that familiar left shoe abandoned on the roadway never finding its twin I am an expectant evening after an expectant morning spent talking on the phone You are the receiver the near-silent listener the breather of shared truths I am the walker the watcher the faint scent of prawns near the dumpsters at work You are a newborn angel a pageant of colors & functions I am a poet, no matter where you find me lost on a street corner that I'll never own You are a plane ticket, yes only one way to answer I am a handstamp still worn but only as a reminder You are the fairy lights strung between broken promises only barely remembered after a night washed in *** I am a cluster of strangers, drunk & excited We are the gift of mystery, alone at the table We are mutual, the future the last to be opened We are the mission completed the present grown tall
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Oct 4, 2015
Oct 4, 2015 at 7:42 AM UTC
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You are the pleasing smell of Chinese grease I am the invisible motivation to frolic in the fountain You are a stranger's giggle & an invitation to dance I am a Cabaret Voltaire 12" & half a clove cigarette You are the diaphanous nature of auburn clouds at twilight I am the woman who raised you but never dared speak your name You are that familiar left shoe abandoned on the roadway never finding its twin I am an expectant evening after an expectant morning spent talking on the phone You are the receiver the near-silent listener the breather of shared truths I am the walker the watcher the faint scent of prawns near the dumpsters at work You are a newborn angel a pageant of colors & functions I am a poet, no matter where you find me lost on a street corner that I'll never own You are a plane ticket, yes only one way to answer I am a handstamp still worn but only as a reminder You are the fairy lights strung between broken promises only barely remembered after a night washed in *** I am a cluster of strangers, drunk & excited We are the gift of mystery, alone at the table We are mutual, the future the last to be opened We are the mission completed the present grown tall
#love#broken#of#a#history#things#sb#stokes
sb-stokes
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sb-stokes
Oct 4, 2015
Oct 4, 2015 at 7:42 AM UTC
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