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kyle-kulsethPoems
Huddle And shiver And scowl                 turn away now from snow-sunburnt faces in cracked and frostbitten window panes A chance taken lightly won't wash away so easy when the years mislaid thicken and lips no longer speak freely So I'll age, here, in silence and dance with ghosts of better days cross yellowing pages stitch Bighorn peaks to the snowy plains Your brown eyes were wet. My greyscale soul had shattered. While you left and forgot me, I divorced from all that matters Teeth grind                                         ears dull                        days fade out Shuffle And stumble Sit down              hunch away, now. A strange face in red light dissembles truths out of frosting frames A proverb so simple, "Not all is gold which glistens," Could have lived in the shimmer, but I never listened. So I'll dream, here, out westward sleep next to bones of better days let my drunken memories trace bus routes back up to Winnipeg Your brown eyes were wet as roadway stitches unraveled My blue eyes filled with question marks, then they hardened up into gravel I'm echoing footfalls on stairs                   in the night You're our spectral laughter in summer                   bathed in cups of wine                        Fade out. Teeth grind. Ears dull. Days fade out.
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Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 5:02 PM UTC
Windshield Scrapings
Huddle And shiver And scowl                 turn away now from snow-sunburnt faces in cracked and frostbitten window panes A chance taken lightly won't wash away so easy when the years mislaid thicken and lips no longer speak freely So I'll age, here, in silence and dance with ghosts of better days cross yellowing pages stitch Bighorn peaks to the snowy plains Your brown eyes were wet. My greyscale soul had shattered. While you left and forgot me, I divorced from all that matters Teeth grind                                         ears dull                        days fade out Shuffle And stumble Sit down              hunch away, now. A strange face in red light dissembles truths out of frosting frames A proverb so simple, "Not all is gold which glistens," Could have lived in the shimmer, but I never listened. So I'll dream, here, out westward sleep next to bones of better days let my drunken memories trace bus routes back up to Winnipeg Your brown eyes were wet as roadway stitches unraveled My blue eyes filled with question marks, then they hardened up into gravel I'm echoing footfalls on stairs                   in the night You're our spectral laughter in summer                   bathed in cups of wine                        Fade out. Teeth grind. Ears dull. Days fade out.
kyle-kulseth
Written by
kyle-kulseth
M/American
Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 5:02 PM UTC
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