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Peter J Jul 12
There's nothing left of that night,
but the sound of my fingers
running down your pictured face.

And if you were to say I touched you,
then the bait is surely drowned
for the excuse I use is rarely legal.

And before your mothers shawl
I looked through a window for a shrouded man finding only good and praise with certainty.

But where your long legged flesh
stood alone at the door of my home,
where my long heavy hearts breath inhaled
just as a slow heave of sea bares it's chest.
I rose up just as a storm that vents its claws
to rage upon your fair pale young skin,
adorned with the feathers of a small bird
that lit up my eyes and heart for this was my thirst.

There is nothing left of that night.
The drift has all but disappeared
before I could be pitied as he that fell twice.

And if you were to say I touched you,
on my mortality and bleached white bones
I'd say I was rich in my rudeness
to those who would listen.
#a long long story and I fear it will never be finished
#re-wite #3
mt Apr 21
u used to like the way i listen u liked it more when i'd speak
i'd fall asleep to ur voice and find heaven in ur heartbeats
missing u hurts my core, makes me think feel and cry
tell me if my hands didn't still shake when i see u would u allow urs in mine
i can't breathe

you're touching me under the stars with hands that venture too far while the moon smiles at us showing every row of pointy perfect teeth
you're touching me and

i can't breathe

you're holding me in a way too tight hold and way too strong arms wrapped around a place i'm supposed to call home with termites eating away underneath
you're holding me and

i can't breathe

you're kissing me with lips of nicotine and breath like fire embers and words of forever and tongue that's sloppy and serene
you're kissing me and

i can't breathe

you're following me in between buildings that shouldn't be this close together and its another dead end another dead end another dead end, why does the sidewalk get to leave?
you're following me and

i can't breathe

you're whispering to me because this is what lovers do, you scream this is what lovers do but i don't want to love you and my lungs ache for you to let me be
you're whispering to me and

i can't breathe

you're laying next to me snoring very loudly so that the neighbors can't hear the sheets suffocate me and i'm dying i'm crying i'm dying
you're laying next to me and

i can't breathe

you’re saying you love me and you’re pulling me so tightly into that lovely body built from forever's and never’s and i’m screaming in your perfect little ears over and over because didn’t you hear me?

i said i can’t breathe
i don't love you but my mouth says it anyway
I love listening to you.
In any way possible.
Whether it's big or small.
Sometimes I get lost in not just the words you speak.
But the actions that follow.
I hate interrupting.
Adding on to previous statements.
Until I know that your completely done.
Not wanting to make you feel unappreciated.

My hands following yours in the deepest form of flattery.

Open ended questions that lead to hour after hour of communication.
My fondness for you growing deeper and deeper.
At times I can't help but interrupt.

Our pauses taking a bit longer after each statement.
It's the anticipation that I want you to know.
That I am listening and take to heart what you are saying.
Stretching myself to cover every part of you.

Completely attentive excited that you'd consider my opinion.
To sit back and reflect without jumping to conclusion.
The one thing that I can do to improve myself.
To love you better.
To accept any and every change that may occur.

A safe place where we can do and say anything without being judged.
I love listening to you.
Specifically without interrupting.
Noticing how happy you are being heard.
With the intent of hearing what you are truly saying.
I appreciate you for truly understanding that if I do interrupt
It's truly the sole purpose of how much I care
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