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Jun 2015
Twilight mornings remind me of coffee tables and study notes
Sometimes I smell spray paint through open windows,
Even on the nights I ditch my cans for insanity
Breakfast-less mornings are recipes for undone laundry
And unturned plant leaves and un-salted tears
One morning, the porch’s railings crumbled in my hands
And fell over on the splattered rug sitting outside the green door
That I stumbled over and waited for fresh milk deliveries on
I find unlit cigarettes on the windowsill that taught me patience
And tornados in a mind that is too beautiful for damaged thoughts
I press petals over open cuts that never get the chance to bleed
And ice the bruises that refuse to turn green
But beside laptop keys that spell out what they know
I hit dlt over and over again; that’s what I know
The only other thing besides surety strung on tree branches
Are orange leaves sharp suns coated in silver
The shark tooth hanging from a string around my neck
Was only a metaphor that caused trouble
Written by
KKM  Toronto.
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