The lingering smell of hummingbirds
wet with rotten cigarette butts
travels faster than I.
As words roll off my tongue
into the water,
she is silent.
I listen,
over contemplating,
analyzing my lack of
sense.
I listen,
the buzz of repent for words spoken
too soon
mimics the fallen leaves
who suddenly brown
as they hit the ground.
For some reason,
she still provides me
a seat in the present tense
And with this last warmth
and my final sense of sight,
I am relieved.
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 12:37 AM UTC
The lingering smell of hummingbirds
wet with rotten cigarette butts
travels faster than I.
As words roll off my tongue
into the water,
she is silent.
I listen,
over contemplating,
analyzing my lack of
sense.
I listen,
the buzz of repent for words spoken
too soon
mimics the fallen leaves
who suddenly brown
as they hit the ground.
For some reason,
she still provides me
a seat in the present tense
And with this last warmth
and my final sense of sight,
I am relieved.
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