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Aug 2012
We sit in silence,
backs crooked,
the couches' cushions caving in.
The weight of passing hours
and minuettes alleviating thinking
in a miscellaneous metronome
ticking to bring time to a heaving chest.

Stay calm,
the pain of realignment will pass.
Burdensome they may be,
burgeoning wings will free you of...

Pressure collapsing this cage,
walls torn from studs,
leaving only this skeleton
surrounding us as we find delirium
the backbone of convulsing lungs watched,
earthquake mute laughter marring the faces
with jagged faults.
The cost of cracking,
we must accept the scarring permanent.
Breaks unplanned infirmities,
alone, our time line disrupted itself
and the heavens came,
tumbling down.

In silence,
we lay, arms barring
our escaping words.
Eyes overstep boundaries,
slipping through the gaps,
a second moment of
clarification fractures restraints
whilst beguiling brainstorms
sparked our interest.
Our tongues meet,
shyly.

rubies placed upon your breath
slipping against molded clay.
In sapphires
you and I hold nighttime
reflections of passion
contained in coal, waiting.
Ivory runs my length,
bending to ecstasy, breathing
shallow, asynchronous, failing
to find it's end in persistence.

In night
the danger dropped us, longing
that dusty light beaming down on
the show, Act 2 is
the comedy. Off.

Parallel parabola line diamond reflections,
allow for recall with brushed fingertips,
horse hair undertones realigning smiles,
abstract the paintings of today,
of yesterday, stealing away tomorrow
in a previous reiteration of our variant
indifference.

The wings of the demon opened
in symbolic solace, fell far
across this burning emotional
harbor, aflame
in angels' suicides.
We've fallen, taken knees to grace,
whispering eulogies the waves applaud.
Sands wash away to cupped stone
palms, caressing the troubled banks lost
in time. The blood washes away,
momentary marks, brown,
stained, it passes.

Demons foreshadow.
In their shade we are seen
falling into broken arms, sinew
stitched through hearts, still healing
strength gives way.

Our tongues meet
shyly,
this reunion a mistake,
now locked, staying stilled while
attempting apologetic phrasing.
We sit in silence,
backs crooked,
blank walls and barren recounts
crashing in.
T Zanahary
Written by
T Zanahary
  2.0k
   ---, Holden Wolfe and Catie
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