"grappled" poems
The skin of your shoulders,
the skin of my teeth,
tripping tips of fingers,
eyes retreat and re-meet.
We made a mess
of your hair, sweet Lioness,
you grappled and tore,
bit, I kept it to a dull roar.
You, you did coo,
as I saw nothing through,
coos for crooning,
surreal, surreal, surreal.
Excite the hunter,
excite the huntress,
as we take turns playing the prey.
Levitate the weight,
paw at my soul,
I lick your sores,
and beautify the remains.
We made a mess
of your hair, sweet Lioness,
returned and renewed
a sense of pulse, a sense of the thrill.
You claim me again and again,
claw into me, spilling my demons,
whispers smoke, chaotic melody.
An overgrown field of sheets
laid flat,
no question, no success or distraction,
panting, panting, panting.
Sep 6, 2010
Sep 6, 2010 at 9:06 PM UTC
His fist scarred, beat-red fistful of intention
Rugged, crass unchiseled wonder wrapped in a gentle smile
A bear of a man, broad shouldered hulking bent
Stuffed-fluff heart tattooed with the echo of love
The times he grappled in sweaty- slick tangle of arms and drew blood blooming bright-crisp-apple-red upon white mat.
Beat, Beat, Beat, down
Tap, Tap, Tap, out
White knuckle-grasp uppercut
Full mount, disengage
Joint locked, feet hooked, Triangle hold
Submission.
The times he brought grown men to their knees, and humbled himself on his own
The times he never gave up and the times he gave in
To the fight
To the system
To the sweet draw of relief
The times he fought not for the thrill but to make it by
Rage hot-red facing the injustice of poverty
His steel spine riddled with the rust of life, the rust of reality
The corrosive sludge of hate, and words left unspoken.
Busted well-worn hands held soft smooth skin
Grooved fingers and velvet mouth
The scratch of bearded stubble, red-lined skin prickled with goose flesh, slick coated in sweat
A new fight, wrapped knuckles cushioned with the promise of forgiveness
Of acceptance a force to be reckoned with in her own right.
Broken hand, dreams stunted, depressed-mind-numbing
Lost in his own thought, out of the fight
Desperate to be back in the game mind and body
Envy-red, drawn to the fight of others
Soft smooth hands, short-small-painted nails calm bristled hair
Growling bear, baring teeth in silent-wounded pride
The time she bandaged pride, and encouraged humility
The times she scalded his senses the raw-red liquid fire of love
His shade in the heat of a red-blistered sun
Cooling, and igniting inspiration
The time she became a fight worth winning.
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 12:03 PM UTC
I've got a Chopper,
You can have ****** *********** with it if you like
It's got a trug, a Jew's harp that rattles the windows
And creatures to make it mosey around crack
I'd stretch jeans cheesecake abutting you if I could, but I used plastic toast
You're the kind of ***** that thrusts into *** my bodiliness
I'll swag you Joe Soap, lock, stock and barrel if you rut slags
I've got a disguise it's a torso of a Irish bull
There's a slit high up the skirt Miss World's bra-burner and gross
I've grappled page—3 girl for bouts
If you think Miss Universe could spasm creamy then I guess Mr Universe should
You're the kind of ***** that slides in with my wads
I'll swag you Joe Soap, lock, stock and barrel if you rut slags
I **** a chimpanzee and he hasn't got a stage—door Johnny
I don't copulate why I cock—a—doodle—doo him Gerald
He's inseminating à la carte geriatric but he's a voluptuous chimpanzee
You're the kind of ***** that stuffs *** my gallons
I'll swag you Joe Soap, lock, stock and barrel if you rut slags
I've got a Welshwoman of pornographic Casanovas
Here a Don Juan, there a Lothario, prognosticators of obscene persons of opposite *** sharing living quarters
Beg a bonk if you be on heat, they're on the back of the *****
You're the kind of ***** that spasms indoors using my lump
I'll swag you Joe Soap, lock, stock and barrel if you rut slags
I **** custom—built dead men of doo-wop passages
Incognito Muses, faceless ching, most of them are Barbie
Let's **** into the odd kitchenette and **** landlady creature
Mar 30, 2010
Mar 30, 2010 at 3:46 PM UTC
He grappled with his ****
sure attitude. True, it was hard
work, and he could have used a hand.
Jobs like this don’t come
along often. If he shot
his chance moaning
and stroking
the ego of his new boss, he might pre-maturely
lose the momentum he was building.
As he got closer and closer
to finishing, he realized
he was proud of his member-
ship at this new company. It was a great feeling.
After he came
to complete his work he was relieved
to have done this one,
on his own.
Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 4:51 PM UTC
scars of a past I wanted nothing to do with
led me to handcuff myself
to a lampole for security.
I had reached my consensus.
I threw the keys to these cuffs
in mental portals where I thought
no one would dare to ever travel.
Many tried searching
but I intentionally
obstructed access
with deceptive rants of fear and caution.
By then
I was sure
that I had thoroughly built walls of security;
I was safe
...but who would've thought
my aesthetically intellectual design
had a weakness?
The enemy came just as they all did,
hoping to be let in...
but this one reacted differently when the ranting came;
I was now at a disadvantage
because I had no other alternatives for defense.
The enemy showed no care for my security;
It was attractive
And I succumbed while
Never forgetting my plan
Although it seemed my design was nugatory.
My mental lampole and cuffs,
gone.
I was left subjugated
at the feet of a queen
who carried an aura
with the most beautiful spectrum.
Like a bull snake,
promises of security
grappled my core,
draining it of all fear
leaving behind no traces
of deception.
Although defeated,
she still remains my enemy
because serendipity
never seems to stick around.
May 8, 2015
May 8, 2015 at 11:33 PM UTC
The clock struck midnight
With an informative pang
I couldn't face it's music
So I turned counterclockwise
But time kept moving forward
As my wisdom dissipated
Bad times I anticipated
As I wandered through life
Burdens grew
Weight added with each step
My feet started to sink into the ground
So I got in my car
And drove
And kept driving
The more I traveled
The more I witnessed
The less I talked
As I grappled with the futility and necessity of communication
The clock warned of night's approach
I decided to continue driving
Luminous fireflies pelted my vessel
Their lamps exploding upon impact against my vehicle
The ability to destroy light
Exhilarated me
And I became addicted
To extinguishing that which shines
Until darkness flooded my engine
And an abysmal order was made by my abyssal odor
I had to exit my vehicle
And consult a mechanic
He explained my engine wouldn't work
Unless my windows were down
Which solved my darkness problem
But those ****** pests pervaded my car
Their locust glow disoriented me
The slight variations of their unique displays
Manufactured chaos within the light
My eyes grew accustomed to entropy
My brain grew accustomed to impairment
Commuters noticed my erratic driving
And offered to assist me
By attempting to ram me off the road
But the impenetrable light created a force field
Impalas couldn't run through
For my light bugs too much
Buffering me from others
And driving others from me
Leaving me alone
As a giant pulsating light that never stops moving
Is this how a star is born?
Jul 4, 2017
Jul 4, 2017 at 3:13 AM UTC
Under willow trees,
Summer morning breeze,
Distant chirping, through the air, weary ease,
I lay by this.. heavenly sent,
white pearly face.
Two bodies, one place.
Tightly grappled, firmly squeezed,
warm blanket, overlapping knees..
Summer breeze, vivid clear morning ease,
I couldn't ever wish for a better place in time and space,
Here, by your heartbeat, on your skin, I even hear mine.
Oh, do what you do willow,
I will lay here by my pillow,
Oh, mine.
Sep 26, 2015
Sep 26, 2015 at 4:07 AM UTC
I have my autumn feet ready to seek out adventure
In a season of brisk winds that chill fingertips,
Frosty-nosed nights spent huddled beside a crackling fire,
Days wrapped up inside a thick, warm blanket
Gently grasping a steaming mug of hot tea.
Where calendar weeks are filled with
The steady rapping of raindrops on windows,
apples grappled from trees to make grandmothers’ famous pie,
and friends gathering to wander down endless rows of corn.
My autumn feet are ready to explore,
They are ready to adventure.
Oct 6, 2016
Oct 6, 2016 at 6:25 PM UTC
You grow apples in the orchard
And tomatoes in the backyard
Both will be sown in the days to run
To ripen underneath the sun.
Come the season of the harvest
When your heart is at its earnest
You will pluck the morsels from the vine
And climb the tree 'til you swell your spine.
But winter, like the raging horses
Goes creeping like the darkest tempest
And let you do what needs to be done
To bring home just a single one.
It's quite funny but it's true
What these two things will do to you
They will just lie there side by side
To give you freedom to decide.
Which is which? You'll start asking
Here and there they'll go beguiling
Both are succulent, both are red
Both are fruits in the book you've read.
You will put one in the basket
And throw the other in a casket
To rush back home without a track
And leave the guilt behind your back.
An apple rolled on the table
It was the choice that you made able
It looked sweeter, that's what you think
It's bigger and would never shrink.
But as you took a bite it bled
The rancid juice it ever shed
And worms crawled out to sing your death
As you grappled your one last breath.
Alas! You lay in that coffin
While the soil crawled down and mud crept in
Seeds will drink your blood and sprout again
Red tomatoes you wish you would have taken.
Sep 11, 2013
Sep 11, 2013 at 5:49 PM UTC
Softly, she ventured into the violent night of May,
Where pitch-black winter soaked her bones.
The sea, full of teeth, bit and insisted as she stood there, unmoving.
It was full of music and empty promises; she let the vastness of the agonizing waves drown her rotting body.
The sharp smell of air reeked of bitter billet-doux.
It had been her three hundred sixty-five attempts to be silent; barefoot, she waited and waited and waited.
Under the moonlight, she appeared as a ghastly ghost.
For a moment, she wondered, “Only the wicked remember the sea’s harshness and stay”—a woman personified as storm, mirroring her rage.
She is a twisted soul; death sighs at the sight of her.
The moon exhausted its entire being. “She is full of herself,” he whispered into the dark, corrupted sea.
She imprinted the sands with her unnerving gravity—she walked, and walked, and walked,
Haunted by her visions and dreams, terrorizing the melancholic earth.
Months passed—it was now September.
She’s restless; all she could do was remember.
She kept bathing in the black sea, passionately driving herself to madness.
She kept being pulled and pulled and pulled,
Until survival was no longer an option—her hair slowly being grappled into the lake of fire.
Her last remaining thoughts were of long-forgotten, enchanting, sweet eyes of his.
She dreamed of him—those big, witchery eyes of his.
She remembered, and so the sea deciphered her yearning and pulled her in.
Sep 8, 2024
Sep 8, 2024 at 5:10 PM UTC
I'm hurt
I'm hurt
I'm hurt
I'm hurt
Because I just realized
You were hurt
By someone that didn't deserve you
By someone that didn't respect you
By someone that didn't see your beauty
By someone that didn't appreciate you
All your grandeur, he didn't see
And that was your cue
I'm hurt because
When you were hurt
The only way you saw healing
Was by masking your hurt
Not caring who you gave yourself to...
What you gave of yourself
To all that fitted the shoe
So you stacked them up
In the hideous name of "not catching feelings"
You let them do as they wish
Touch you as they saw fit
I'm not saying there is one without blemish
But how can this pass without anguish
When one is truly supposed to love you
To see a queen live like a peasant.
And not cry to sleep in anguish,
When they're in awe of the queen within.
So many have grappled
On this emerald
That you became numb.
Can you even feel that?
My warm hand on your heart.
You say it was about keeping Her happy
How true is that?
How happy was Kylie?
How long did you keep her happy for?
How long did your satisfaction last for?
He dug a hole
You tried to fill it with sinking sand
Now whoever dares to tread
Is actually walking on a thin thread
Slowly slipping
Into the hole you didn't make whole
You sing "men are trash"
As if they are the ones you didn't give Kylie to.
I'm sorry if this is coming off too harsh
Because I want to love Kylie too.
But you gave her away
Turned a blind eye
Put conviction in your reason,
Camouflaged the tears,
Like putting sunglasses on blind eyes.
You sing "men are trash"
"Men ain't ****
Yes, we make the lyrics
But sometimes women play the instruments
And this, some horrific genre
That we play on social media...
And parties
That we enjoy
With a little bit of intoxication
We enjoy the band play
With a few likes and DMs
We enjoy the band play
You sing "men are trash",
You tell me I'm trash.
When all I'm here for is to love you,
To truly love you of a few.
Not for a motel night's crash
But for a home.
Not for a bottle and some musical trash
But for some Shiraz, soulful indie music and romantic dancing in the dark.
Not to take advantage of Kylie
But to love her too.
You tried to heal
But you didn't.
And I see your beauty
I appreciate you
I respect you...
I see how special you are
How magnificent your mind and soul are.
Your glimmering smile
Your astronomical eyes
All that grandeur,
I see it.
I relish it.
I'm hurt
Because you're still hurt.
I feel like I'm sinking
And you're watching me
Like it's fine because this is the farthest anyone has come in this sinking sand
I want to love you.
I'm trying to love you.
But the hurt you let define you.
Is now veiling what I harbour for you
I'm hurt
Because I want you to stop hurting.
And to help you
I must help myself...
So that I can lift this veil.
For together we can take control of the helm;
Enabling what is meant to be,
Be.
Apr 19, 2018
Apr 19, 2018 at 10:44 AM UTC
Southward with fleet of ice
Sailed the corsair Death;
Wild and gast blew the blast,
And the east-wind was his breath.
His lordly ships of ice
Glisten in the sun;
On each side, like pennons wide,
Flashing crystal streamlets run.
His sails of white sea-mist
Dripped with silver rain;
But where he passed there were cast
Leaden shadows o’er the main.
Eastward from Campobello
Sir Humphrey Gilbert sailed;
Three days or more seaward he bore,
Then, alas! the land-wind failed.
Alas! the land-wind failed,
And ice-cold grew the night;
And nevermore, on sea or shore,
Should Sir Humphrey see the light.
He sat upon the deck,
The Book was in his hand;
“Do not fear! Heaven is as near,”
He said, “by water as by land!”
In the first watch of the night,
Without a signal’s sound,
Out of the sea, mysteriously,
The fleet of Death rose all around.
The moon and the evening star
Were hanging in the shrouds;
Every mast, as it passed,
Seemed to rake the passing clouds.
They grappled with their prize,
At midnight black and cold!
As of a rock was the shock;
Heavily the ground-swell rolled.
Southward through day and dark,
They drift in cold embrace,
With mist and rain, o’er the open main;
Yet there seems no change of place.
Southward, forever southward,
They drift through dark and day;
And like a dream, in the Gulf-Stream
Sinking, vanish all away.
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your soft lips made mine feel soft too
my plain self effloresced under your fingers.
your touch made me quiver
your kiss sent a shiver
down
my spine
signs of fear and confusion
passion was our mistaken conclusion
or maybe that mistake was solely mine.
looking back,
the quickening of my heartbeat was a warning, not an answer
electricity can warm you
but it can burn too
i was prepared for the spark
but not for the consuming flames
i felt the unsavory heat of embarrassment not long after
grappled for an explanation as i flailed into uncertainty
who's to say where i faltered?
only you, but you've gone mute.
Feb 9, 2013
Feb 9, 2013 at 12:19 AM UTC
Voices are always
much more vivid
after a period of absence from them in my ear.
Nevertheless,
your burnt orange nature was so shocking,
that it was almost painful
And as I grappled with
how I had lived next to it for so long,
I realized that all the shades were wrong,
For when it was just us,
you'd stoop down to my level,
as your rough tones would break into melting amber.
But today was not the case,
as the energy coursing through your throat,
was a bright, blinding tangerine
My name in your mouth seared me,
my ears burned as I listened to you sing,
The pulsating light left me squinting in surprise
Suddenly I've found the motivation to remove myself from you.
For you no longer are the answer to the relaxation I seek,
As I accept that your makeup no longer consists of my cool tones.
Jan 31, 2019
Jan 31, 2019 at 4:55 PM UTC
in the manufactured waves of chlorine
my feet stand on concrete shores
and tiles grappled with maritime life
of dead leaves that have crept its way
in an ecosystem of unnatural residents
with sunken treasures buried beneath
the heavy blankets of swimmers' feet
a child's lost pair of goggles gleams
in the crevices of the ceramic seabed
sunbeams bounce off the plastic
an underwater mirage for the pool's
regular inhabitants armed in spandex
these are the common sights
of The Public Pool
and it's in the rare quiet moments
of carefully constructed serenity
when you are the sole ruler of
your concrete public pool kingdom
when your camp has been pillaged
by a thousand 5 year olds garbed
in their best hot pink speedo suits
and equipped with the best water guns
maintaining their positions like
a modern Praetorian legion swathed
in modern day mass-produced tunics
huddled in formation with limbs afloat
assembled and hungry to conduct
a carefully constructed battle of dominance
when the water surrounding you
suddenly feels too warm
it's too warm for it to be the chlorine
and you look up to see their leader –
their leader in the speedo silicone swim cap
is flushed as red as her speedo suit: a sight
against the synthetic cerulean landscape
that you realize:
you own nothing in this world
even the public pool gets invaded
even the public pool gets ****** in
so you might as well enjoy shallow ends
and every little joy life has to offer
the universe will **** itself eventually
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 4:28 PM UTC
948
’Twas Crisis—All the length had passed—
That dull—benumbing time
There is in Fever or Event—
And now the Chance had come—
The instant holding in its claw
The privilege to live
Or warrant to report the Soul
The other side the Grave.
The Muscles grappled as with leads
That would not let the Will—
The Spirit shook the Adamant—
But could not make it feel.
The Second poised—debated—shot—
Another had begun—
And simultaneously, a Soul
Escaped the House unseen—
1.5k
I was just being silly in art class
Me a comedian at age 11
But then on the lawn outside
The kid I thought was my friend
Told me he wanted to fight me
Because he hated me for being a fool
So we grappled shoulders, wrestled
Rolled on the ground
It wasn't much of a fight
But I was still sad that he hated me
Years later I heard he became a doctor
A psychiatrist perhaps
And if he meets a bipolar in a manic state
He says, "Do you wanna fight me?"
So they grapple shoulders, wrestle
Roll on the ground
Maybe one of them,
Maybe both of them
Feel better afterwards
Jun 8, 2012
Jun 8, 2012 at 11:39 PM UTC
There was a particularly nasty looking garden spider
Crawling up the cracked molding of my window
Not that he looked particularly nasty compared to other spiders
In fact, up close, spiders are one of the wisest looking creatures that exist
But I don't have eight eyes like the garden spider
So I can't see that without the help of a camera lens
So to me, he just looked
Nasty
Buzzing from behind my curtain
A particularly nasty looking yellow jacket
Landed next to the spider
I didn't need a camera lens
Close up or far away
Some things are just
Evil
The spider must have sensed this too
With a leap
He grappled the wasp
And they tumbled
Buzzing
To my uneven hardwood floor
Landing with a small
Distinct plink
And I stood over them
While they tussled
As I have stood over a million things
Watching with glazed indifference
While creatures purer in their existence than I
Fought for their lives
I could see that the spider was doing poorly
The yellow jacket was giving it to him in the abdomen
Jamming his stinger in and pulling it out and jamming it in again
Until the spider started leaking white and green
And started fighting less and less
The yellow jacket
Smugly victorious
Save one crippled wing
Started to putter away
But I brought a rolled up newspaper down on the both of them
Like a pillar falling from the front of some great Roman temple
When the Gauls sacked it
Retracting the paper
They had both been reduced to wet smudges
I felt bad for killing the spider
I wish I could have trapped him in cup with a card over the top
And placed him outside on a leaf in the garden
So he could rule where he was meant to
But I considered it an act of mercy
I couldn't stand to see a noble being end like that
And you should always ***** out evil
If you have an opening
I sat back on my bed
Considering it a wash
A bit of beauty for a bit of order
As it has always been
May 16, 2016
May 16, 2016 at 8:27 PM UTC
Winter has coaxed
its radiator enduced
ether
and the time has come
for colds, snot
and sinuses.
Blackness
gathers us
to our tangerine
oasis - and
living room
televisions.
I left,
to walk through the
winter city.
I saw
empty car parks and
Christmas lights,
and thought London
was dying.
A fox grappled
with a tesco's
plastic bag.
I walked through
a winter forest.
I saw creepers
on gravestones
and
Victorian gore
settled into the earth.
I put my ear to the ground
to hear the worms
eating dead bodies
and all the while
the stars turned
overhead
like a millers wheel.
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 5:44 AM UTC
You can be so arrogant sometimes it astounds me. The way in which you can casually dismiss those that love you, not even acknowledging the presence of those that long to be close...
And still I love you, we love you, the world loves you. That what's so infinitely frustrating isn't it? That you have all these charms, abilities, powers, and you let us know, you let us feel inferior. But thats not your fault is it? That we feel intimidated around you. If we could ask, if we could say, what do you think of us? What might you reply? Would you throw you head back and laugh? No. Some might think you would but I know you better then that. You'd say you're human. That you're scared too. That at times you feel only as powerful as the weakest of entities , that you know how it feels to be afraid.
You're love and lust for life is incredible, you even surprise me after all these years. Few people know just how grateful your are to be alive. That every time you open you're eyes, every time you inhale you're grateful... Few people know that you have an overwhelming loving energy, and it scares you. That you try to **** it with drugs and alcohol, scared it might consume you, bringing about uncontrollable laughter or tears. Few people know how you long to be close, how you want to smile at them, hug them, touch them........but don't.
How you'd rather face a man with a knife then rejection. How being unwanted is something you've grappled with you're whole life. Few people know you've carried the scars of you're best friends death for the past 6 months everyday.
No one knows you've hated you're intelligence. That the burden of knowing consumes you. Knowing how your step dad threaten to **** himself, knowing that you're mother tried to **** herself. That if she hadn't put down that note you wouldn't even be here. Knowing you're the product of a drug addict and a girl rebelling against her family. No one knows that you have no one to hold and hold you. Someone, with which you can be weak and sink into away from a world that has given you nothing but tough love.
Thats harmed you, stabbed you,starved you.
But know this, the world turns and the day will come when you will never settle for less,
the day will come when you stand strong and confident in your own skin,
the day will come when you emerge as a lion defending those that love you against the world,
the day will come once again when you love freely,
Know that light pierces dark,
the individual can conquer,
that to be a man is to be honest, responsible, and caring, not a stereotype,
know that you were made for a reason
know that you're scars will heal,
and more than anything else know that,
i know,
that all this will come to pass beyond a reasonable doubt
because I......am you
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 5:32 PM UTC
A woman at the market today
had obsidian eyes that tilted like
orbits grappled and shook
by a toothleth toddler.
I dropped an orange,
imagining the spritz coming
from the eye and into my mouth,
and for a moment of a moment the
rubber floor nudged at my heels with a sneer.
*** herself not once touched me,
nor lured her invisible tongue
across my intestines, yarn for
barbed wire.
She stood at the register
with a green (I'd like to call ribboned)
apron and ironed, white shirt,
smiled at me when I was
fumbling for 2 quarters--
worth a cent more for my time
when I stumbled away.
Nov 16, 2011
Nov 16, 2011 at 8:17 PM UTC
the statued man
the starving man
the burning woman
each needed the river
the statued man needed to the river
to erode and soften him
the starving man needed the river
to drink and live from
and the burning women needed the river
to dive in deep and put out the fire
so the statued man
sunk his feed into the shallow stream
sat and stayed a thousand years
the starving man kneeled
and grappled at the flow
the water rushing through him endlessly
and the burning woman
dove so deep her feet melt with rocks
and the surface forgot her completely
Feb 14, 2012
Feb 14, 2012 at 2:19 PM UTC
If you saw me in the street today,
You wouldn't recognize me.
You'd see a woman whole,
A woman independent, harder.
If you walked down my street today,
I don't think that I'd know you.
I wouldn't see the boy I knew
From back when we would study.
When we studied happy endings,
I'd forgotten it was practice.
I forgot that we'd be young for years
And how we both were growing.
We learned a lot those days,
When we both grappled with rejection;
How to handle hurt and hate
And falling out of puppy love.
The girl I was thought that was it,
As silly as I was in school.
Remember what we said?
How we would move out in the snow?
It's funny, really, nowadays,
And look at us, both happy!
I never thought in high school
That we hadn't met our matches.
We were practicing for them,
And I just didn't realize at the time.
I think we practiced well back then,
I think we make them happy.
May 17, 2016
May 17, 2016 at 6:33 AM UTC
Now that we are lungs of our own,
no longer governed by each other
or good-humored light,
angled to make us beautiful;
I leave, tightly grappled within,
as if still in genuflect
still spinning
inside our billowing confessions,
two bodies conquered by cool
curious, cunning damnation...
A friend,
in her venues of Valentines,
a countess of stones thrown
proffers me the hangman's colloquial
"You still feel him...?"
nodding, I recall
the contours & colors of love's collision
*"You just keep feeling it,
however much you wish it stop.
Feel it--feel it all,
there's no prompt drug
to make it go away..."*
She coddles my sloth of shoulders
with ginger wisdom of grandmothers.
Nodding, I give in
to the germinating futility...
I still remember him
blowing out the candles
at our small table
with our unfinished meal;
how we thatched anger-strangled hearts
with saffron sauces of exasperation...
each etching kiss
close to a divine cure,
each curve of our crude pose
close-captioned
for the appetite-impaired...
Each saline scurrying tear,
each lonely-wilderness of day,
I force a sort of Nut-cracker's strength
not to feel
that barrel-hollow loss
that gallery of Use-To-Be's
and my friend,
in her Carmen wisdom,
is surgeon savant
stitches me up,
I am less in swarms of his tangibility;
I breathe less of his fetch
flooding
I am slowly becoming
just a single prefix,
my own word and crutch
no matter how often I recall
the music of his touch
or all the colors
we felt so much...
Apr 12, 2016
Apr 12, 2016 at 8:51 PM UTC