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"youcouldhearourflesh" poems
youcouldhearourflesh                                 rip                                                                                 apart. (as though it had ever beentogether as though we were ever                                                                          more than car crashes than house fires. I held onto your address, you know when you held on to my hand; when you held up the traffic; when you                                                        left                                                                                     me and drank                                                                                                                                            Copenhagen through a paper straw. The whetted splendour of it all: I wonder if the drowned ever noticed how the sun kisses                                     The Sea?                                                                                              down                                                                                                                   we                                                                                            sank. Did your feet touch the bottom or did you                                                               swim to the sound of - to the sound of br ea k ing vi oli  n s ? I snapped each string like I was                                         pulling teeth. Your address  folded into                                                          waves, your house burned to                                                          dust, the kind god                     keepssafe - “one last                                                         keep sake” in his pockets. If I tightened my hands, doyouthinkicouldchokeonthis                                                                     cable? Wouldthatstop                              time or your voice or my voice;                                       the voicemails; the answer machine that no one                                            ever                                                                   answered? My blueeyed boy was born in              goodbyes he sleeps in seas                                                                                         irrevocable: and The Tide washes him home to me                                                                 every day.) it sounded like                             fingers tangled in                                             phone wire and br ok e nv io l in  s.
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Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 7:06 PM UTC
sayyykirsty
COPENHAGEN
youcouldhearourflesh                                 rip                                                                                 apart. (as though it had ever beentogether as though we were ever                                                                          more than car crashes than house fires. I held onto your address, you know when you held on to my hand; when you held up the traffic; when you                                                        left                                                                                     me and drank                                                                                                                                            Copenhagen through a paper straw. The whetted splendour of it all: I wonder if the drowned ever noticed how the sun kisses                                     The Sea?                                                                                              down                                                                                                                   we                                                                                            sank. Did your feet touch the bottom or did you                                                               swim to the sound of - to the sound of br ea k ing vi oli  n s ? I snapped each string like I was                                         pulling teeth. Your address  folded into                                                          waves, your house burned to                                                          dust, the kind god                     keepssafe - “one last                                                         keep sake” in his pockets. If I tightened my hands, doyouthinkicouldchokeonthis                                                                     cable? Wouldthatstop                              time or your voice or my voice;                                       the voicemails; the answer machine that no one                                            ever                                                                   answered? My blueeyed boy was born in              goodbyes he sleeps in seas                                                                                         irrevocable: and The Tide washes him home to me                                                                 every day.) it sounded like                             fingers tangled in                                             phone wire and br ok e nv io l in  s.
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