Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
beepbeeplettucePoems
I got strange.  Tonight I let loneliness get to me. I left my bed to join others while remaining alone in my thoughts. No gas. Couldn't drive far. Otherwise I'd be on the streets. Trading traffic lights a wave of my hand for a sea of green. It's always good to be grateful. Don't ask why.   Strange, watching from behind a cellophane throat. My words wrapped like salt water taffies. Who would want to taste them? I'd like to think someone would. I want a stranger to break the seal; I want a mystic to drink from my mouth and have visions of the future. She will be beautiful, again.   The mask may re-carve itself, twisting knots into a pure grain with every new model. But I have always seen her eyes. They are both ocean and sky, mercury and velvet, a torn legging, windswept petals.   How her lips taste... Beyond that, I get lost. I can never remember the rest. Can't spread myself to thin.   She works in glances. With too many eyes on me, I forget who I am looking for.   I don't even know her name.
0
Jul 7, 2012
Jul 7, 2012 at 5:58 PM UTC
Strange
I got strange.  Tonight I let loneliness get to me. I left my bed to join others while remaining alone in my thoughts. No gas. Couldn't drive far. Otherwise I'd be on the streets. Trading traffic lights a wave of my hand for a sea of green. It's always good to be grateful. Don't ask why.   Strange, watching from behind a cellophane throat. My words wrapped like salt water taffies. Who would want to taste them? I'd like to think someone would. I want a stranger to break the seal; I want a mystic to drink from my mouth and have visions of the future. She will be beautiful, again.   The mask may re-carve itself, twisting knots into a pure grain with every new model. But I have always seen her eyes. They are both ocean and sky, mercury and velvet, a torn legging, windswept petals.   How her lips taste... Beyond that, I get lost. I can never remember the rest. Can't spread myself to thin.   She works in glances. With too many eyes on me, I forget who I am looking for.   I don't even know her name.
beepbeeplettuce
Written by
beepbeeplettuce
American
Jul 7, 2012
Jul 7, 2012 at 5:58 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem