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bryan-grissomPoems
If my tongue were a pen every word would be a postmarked love letter to your ears. If my tongue were a pen my words wouldn’t have cut so deeply and left you with coupons you’ll never use and bills that are past due. The page is my playground. My Church. My Sanctuary. My Womb, Our eyes are doorways to the secrets that make us who we are This dark haired face with three day scruff and glasses is a single sentence out of context, and our chapter isn’t finished. I am fishing on a lake at five years old. passing my driving test, graduating high school, I am both an old soul who lived too much too young, and a child reaching for candles in the darkness. If my tongue were a pen, my darling, my soul would slide its fingers through your eyeballs and bury itself in the deepest recesses of your heart If my tongue were a pen instead of picking up all the bad memories of this apartment with piles of ***** clothes, you would find the words and phrases we phased out of our lives for a forgotten reason at the end of an empty bottle night. I am moving to a new city at 25, becoming a Father. Invisible to my child. A Stranger. I am meeting you for the first time, we are children holding hands in the darkness We were children jumping from swings, We were the children who knew just enough We told each other all our secrets We shut doors We blew out candles if my tongue were a pen My darling, it would tell you we are not a mistake. we are a collection of unfortunate accidents that became something beautiful. Turn the Page. BG-4/10/17
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Apr 10, 2017
Apr 10, 2017 at 11:32 PM UTC
Locked Doors and ***** Clothes
If my tongue were a pen every word would be a postmarked love letter to your ears. If my tongue were a pen my words wouldn’t have cut so deeply and left you with coupons you’ll never use and bills that are past due. The page is my playground. My Church. My Sanctuary. My Womb, Our eyes are doorways to the secrets that make us who we are This dark haired face with three day scruff and glasses is a single sentence out of context, and our chapter isn’t finished. I am fishing on a lake at five years old. passing my driving test, graduating high school, I am both an old soul who lived too much too young, and a child reaching for candles in the darkness. If my tongue were a pen, my darling, my soul would slide its fingers through your eyeballs and bury itself in the deepest recesses of your heart If my tongue were a pen instead of picking up all the bad memories of this apartment with piles of ***** clothes, you would find the words and phrases we phased out of our lives for a forgotten reason at the end of an empty bottle night. I am moving to a new city at 25, becoming a Father. Invisible to my child. A Stranger. I am meeting you for the first time, we are children holding hands in the darkness We were children jumping from swings, We were the children who knew just enough We told each other all our secrets We shut doors We blew out candles if my tongue were a pen My darling, it would tell you we are not a mistake. we are a collection of unfortunate accidents that became something beautiful. Turn the Page. BG-4/10/17
#love#hope#loneliness#napowrimo
bryan-grissom
Written by
bryan-grissom
M
Apr 10, 2017
Apr 10, 2017 at 11:32 PM UTC
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