I put you
over my shoulder
like a spooled
rope.
Twisted too many
directions,
a little tug
and you might go
anorexically
thin;
too taut for me
to yank anymore.
And when you come to me
drunk,
a *****
of yelling,
I think of those times
when we sat close together,
barely touching.
In those days,
we were both drunk
and bitter over forever.
Beers chased liquor
over steeples;
we dropped dimes of pain
over smoked ****
and bleeding anger.
Time languored,
and eventually
or anger
stymied.
When you cried
twisted beyond
compare,
I held you close,
sniffed your hair.
People hurt each other because they can,
and we lay
on a mattress of your canned hopes.
I would never be a prince charming,
even when I groped
you;
when we were tossing each other,
fighting like ghosts do:
bad jabs,
quiet knives,
softer moans.
So, I curled you
over me;
beneath my earlobe,
as your whistled tears
drained energy.
Our synergy was syphoning
each other's
pain;
coiling nooses around our hearts
and kicking out the chairs
holding up our underneath souls.
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 11:48 PM UTC
I put you
over my shoulder
like a spooled
rope.
Twisted too many
directions,
a little tug
and you might go
anorexically
thin;
too taut for me
to yank anymore.
And when you come to me
drunk,
a *****
of yelling,
I think of those times
when we sat close together,
barely touching.
In those days,
we were both drunk
and bitter over forever.
Beers chased liquor
over steeples;
we dropped dimes of pain
over smoked ****
and bleeding anger.
Time languored,
and eventually
or anger
stymied.
When you cried
twisted beyond
compare,
I held you close,
sniffed your hair.
People hurt each other because they can,
and we lay
on a mattress of your canned hopes.
I would never be a prince charming,
even when I groped
you;
when we were tossing each other,
fighting like ghosts do:
bad jabs,
quiet knives,
softer moans.
So, I curled you
over me;
beneath my earlobe,
as your whistled tears
drained energy.
Our synergy was syphoning
each other's
pain;
coiling nooses around our hearts
and kicking out the chairs
holding up our underneath souls.
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