"provocativeness" poems
I miss our conversations at 4am. My time. I miss the provocativeness of talking about absolutely nothing of any importance for hours. I miss my sleepy, sluggish, somewhat coherent words, that revealed an honesty that you might not have heard if it wasn’t the wee hours of the morning. I miss the bravado of your voice that rhythmically danced in unison along side the raindrops outside my window. I miss visualizing that you were here with me. You never knew that long after we’d said goodnight, I’d lye there and think about you.
Perhaps you’ve noticed that I don’t call you at 4am anymore, because it’s no longer appropriate. Perhaps you’ve notice that I don’t call much at all.
But if it were 4am at this very moment, and my thoughts were only somewhat coherent, and I were drunk with sleepiness and honesty… I’d tell you that I miss you, and it hurts.
Sep 1, 2010
Sep 1, 2010 at 7:13 PM UTC
There’s a particular provocativeness
In dark purple under the eyes
In mascara and eyeliner caked under fingernails
In wrinkles between the brows
In opaque smiles
There’s a mysterious longing
In hands through hair
In lips chapped and the color of wilting roses
In fluttering lavender eyelids
In unconsciousness in the air
Nothing about this is beautiful
Your up-until-6am staring in the dark
Your scrapes and scratches
Your calloused fingertips
Your boney spine
Nothing about this is beautiful
Your frantic, wild talks about how you don’t know yourself
Your desperateness to understand your mind
Sitting sobbing sadness in the shower
Bruised knees pressed into your eye sockets
Hugging your folded legs
Feeling the hot water drain with your emotions
There’s a particular provocativeness
In being so ****** up that you know you’re unloveable
You’re an interesting specimen,
But this kind of life is not beautiful
romantic
you do not want this.
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 12:06 PM UTC