I wonder how you'd look -
on a mangy summer evening in June
when the party's over
and the midnight revelers are forced to retreat, sweating and reeking of regret and fireball, to raggamuffin sparkly cushions beneath Marley cut outs and pasted pastel hair,
bathed in moonlight, you,
standing beneath the light of the grimy fluorescent apartment sky
and dust-laden shadows, stumbling over empty yogurt cans bearing the markings of koolaid stains and milk curdles
towards me
would you
put your hand on my face, between my *******
or the ridges of my fading tattoos,
or the bulbous bubbling of my old wounds?
me,
standing alone in the corner of a forgotten high rise
housing degenerates punks fiends trapped in an ***** daze or good boys just wanting to go back home to the verizon of heaven or sacramento.
Would you be soft
and tell me
that your poetry came from the heart?
soft, and swallow me in coked out irises
silver or black or blue would you
hold my hand and ask for consent
because you're a romantic and poet and everything is what it meant?
or would
you
tear into me, tooth and claw?
would you abandon courtship law
and drive my body into the edge of the bookshelf that your mother gave you
(because she hated you)
until it
broke?
I wonder,
lights out empty room
empty bodies, static minds,
would you mind
me, bracing for a foothold in reality and, finding none, speaking in tongues until daylight drove us away with its decadent array of pockmarks and ***** perfume and baggy eyes and spit
would you say sorry and gather my things
or, in bed and eye to eye, tease the promise of more flings?
i wonder
I wonder, would you have been a friend or just a ******
I wonder about your 3 am stubble
your eyes fluttering when you sleep
I wonder at the size of your fingers between my thighs,
chasing scars and counting out sheep
I wonder, if I had met you,
at the secrets we would keep.
I wonder, if I had met you,
could our treachery have run deep?
Jun 22, 2020
Jun 22, 2020 at 10:49 PM UTC
I wonder how you'd look -
on a mangy summer evening in June
when the party's over
and the midnight revelers are forced to retreat, sweating and reeking of regret and fireball, to raggamuffin sparkly cushions beneath Marley cut outs and pasted pastel hair,
bathed in moonlight, you,
standing beneath the light of the grimy fluorescent apartment sky
and dust-laden shadows, stumbling over empty yogurt cans bearing the markings of koolaid stains and milk curdles
towards me
would you
put your hand on my face, between my *******
or the ridges of my fading tattoos,
or the bulbous bubbling of my old wounds?
me,
standing alone in the corner of a forgotten high rise
housing degenerates punks fiends trapped in an ***** daze or good boys just wanting to go back home to the verizon of heaven or sacramento.
Would you be soft
and tell me
that your poetry came from the heart?
soft, and swallow me in coked out irises
silver or black or blue would you
hold my hand and ask for consent
because you're a romantic and poet and everything is what it meant?
or would
you
tear into me, tooth and claw?
would you abandon courtship law
and drive my body into the edge of the bookshelf that your mother gave you
(because she hated you)
until it
broke?
I wonder,
lights out empty room
empty bodies, static minds,
would you mind
me, bracing for a foothold in reality and, finding none, speaking in tongues until daylight drove us away with its decadent array of pockmarks and ***** perfume and baggy eyes and spit
would you say sorry and gather my things
or, in bed and eye to eye, tease the promise of more flings?
i wonder
I wonder, would you have been a friend or just a ******
I wonder about your 3 am stubble
your eyes fluttering when you sleep
I wonder at the size of your fingers between my thighs,
chasing scars and counting out sheep
I wonder, if I had met you,
at the secrets we would keep.
I wonder, if I had met you,
could our treachery have run deep?
More play with free form and sharp visuals. Dedicated to beat poets and paths never traveled.