732

She rose to His Requirement—dropt
The Playthings of Her Life
To take the honorable Work
Of Woman, and of Wife—

If ought She missed in Her new Day,
Of Amplitude, or Awe—
Or first Prospective—Or the Gold
In using, wear away,

It lay unmentioned—as the Sea
Develop Pearl, and ****,
But only to Himself—be known
The Fathoms they abide—

it hurts to breath,
and pains me to smile.
the light in my eyes is forced,
and my words are produced manually.

bad things happened, and i have to pretend they didn't.

I'm not expecting to race
over grass and gravel to greet
you with an umbrella today.
I'm not expecting to fight
you for blankets and bedsheets
if we sleep together tonight.
I'm not expecting to wake
you with a kiss or caress
if we open our eyes tomorrow.

If you're wondering how a
pretzel untwists its self,
it is not by the curls of a lover's
tongue—
nor by the might
of its self
but by the spine of a poet's
meek hands,
unlacing and
embracing
it's curves
and lines.

A flawless red curve of
Seductive lips
Your bold tongue
On the cusp of mine
I savor your words
Reckless declarations
Breathed down my throat
Slashing my soul
A wound that won’t heal
Exposed to the memory of
*******
Memories that make it my ruin
The way you wrenched my heart
Racked my mind
Molested my soul
The desolation you left me with
When you were done

I look for Pink
To comfort and inspire
My emotional essence
You will see if you
Look into my eyes.