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a-mareshipPoems
The winter was unkind Yet you loved it So much, It was your gauche friend, Reclusive in its blankness, Complicit with its demands for Many layers, As snow is complicit in ****** - Snuggling coldly into Footprints. And I remember the simpering Light That night, As it squeaked into the Room like Lab rats bred for death. I remember the slip Of your body on the sheets And your Speech bubble breath Spearmint ellipses, Your teeth white Your eyeballs white Your watch-face white The witch behind you White, Whispering the content Of her Turkish delight And sculpting you For her museum. (Nothing ever really warmed you up. How I hated that winter.) I put the heating on and Showed you the Wedding dress – An antique affair That had been passed down. My sister did not want it, As she is not at all romantic. When I got back from The bathroom You were out of bed, Holding the dress against yourself, Stuck in the mirror, Head turned, Absolutely lost - A tiny bride White as a Snow tongued branch And just as still, Waiting for the wind Or the clouds Or some kind of joy To move you.
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Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 6:41 PM UTC
white
The winter was unkind Yet you loved it So much, It was your gauche friend, Reclusive in its blankness, Complicit with its demands for Many layers, As snow is complicit in ****** - Snuggling coldly into Footprints. And I remember the simpering Light That night, As it squeaked into the Room like Lab rats bred for death. I remember the slip Of your body on the sheets And your Speech bubble breath Spearmint ellipses, Your teeth white Your eyeballs white Your watch-face white The witch behind you White, Whispering the content Of her Turkish delight And sculpting you For her museum. (Nothing ever really warmed you up. How I hated that winter.) I put the heating on and Showed you the Wedding dress – An antique affair That had been passed down. My sister did not want it, As she is not at all romantic. When I got back from The bathroom You were out of bed, Holding the dress against yourself, Stuck in the mirror, Head turned, Absolutely lost - A tiny bride White as a Snow tongued branch And just as still, Waiting for the wind Or the clouds Or some kind of joy To move you.
a-mareship
Written by
a-mareship
English
Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 6:41 PM UTC
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