it's ******* you over like the memory of a 7th grade dance.
lissome where it hurts.
dreaming like a hallway.running hot from throwing up over the railing.
chest-wet
and dripping into the ringing of my ears.
your slender limbs fold over themselves for convenient storage.
i'm
running out of options in the smooth outside of your fantasy
rings- many digits a-caged
i've fallen down before you.
stuck inside the wills before you touched your lips to my fingers.
i am repeating in your forests,
dark as they are.
before the world is lit,
i stumble, blind enough to the lake. and the
unshod calling that bids me
to you.
and even now, as the grey waters wimp away into the other side of the opening - the frost that stays close to the dew takes lives.
May 10, 2016
May 10, 2016 at 2:59 AM UTC
it's ******* you over like the memory of a 7th grade dance.
lissome where it hurts.
dreaming like a hallway.running hot from throwing up over the railing.
chest-wet
and dripping into the ringing of my ears.
your slender limbs fold over themselves for convenient storage.
i'm
running out of options in the smooth outside of your fantasy
rings- many digits a-caged
i've fallen down before you.
stuck inside the wills before you touched your lips to my fingers.
i am repeating in your forests,
dark as they are.
before the world is lit,
i stumble, blind enough to the lake. and the
unshod calling that bids me
to you.
and even now, as the grey waters wimp away into the other side of the opening - the frost that stays close to the dew takes lives.
Request permission to use this poem