The sky is grey this morning.
The night is over, but it is still sleeping (as we should be)
I don't think the moon has purged itself entirely.
Somewhere above us, it is in hiding.
How can I say-
I am lost in you, and there is no finding-
Every road is a dead end in it's own way.
All that I know is that I am not afraid.
The water dripping down from the planters does not drown me.
It feeds me.
Gives me words that I turn to poetry.
A light from a television screen.
Black curtains and my feet aching.
This blister will remind me of a lifeless body.
It burns as I sweat profusely.
The constant buzz from cars passing and the sweet ****** of a wooden wind chime sang us to sleep.
I felt you touch me.
You put your hands in between my legs, and kissed my shoulder blade.
Thank you.
It made my stomach weak.
Queasy.
You never promised me anything.
But if I woke you in the middle of the night, would you caress my face?
Do you want to know what I want?
Besides you (nothing but you)
I want you here to hold me.
I want you to say something.
Put me in your movie.
Make it clever and witty.
I want you to say you-
Is it coming?
Will I ever see the sun?