tired mouth

the noise that whispers
from my tired mouth
is a strangled sound
you once loved
when hope was free
and delivered to me daily.

and my penance for some
forgotten sin
is to write laments
about your skin
and the knowledge that
my chance was so easily stolen.

(old poem//november 3rd 2009)

wearing men

my bedroom chokes
with smokey dreams,
but I've forgotten how to breathe.
wax and plaster words spill out
your young and darling mouth.
they fall apart at the foot of the bed.

I leap through the window,
paint the indifferent road red,
and girls in high heels
wearing men
and wearing masks
will step over
my body,
as leaves fall
off tired trees
and blanket my eyes
back to sleep.

(old poem//november 3rd 2009)

duty and desire

you wore that dress i always loved,
it fit you like a fever.
trying to avoid the waiting rocks
that line your grand volcanic curves,
above you wailed a siren song
as i pushed myself against the wall,
and no resistance dulls
the need to drink
your nautical disaster.

and everyone you spoke to grew red
from the paint you use to caress
that shape your mouth takes
as it drips out words
i'll never comprehend.
and i felt like the villain
in my own stageplay,
keeping my true thoughts hidden
in a secret spot
between my shoulder blades,

wondering if i'll ever get
the right moment
to speak the words i want to,
or if the past will
keep my jaw locked forever,
my noble and aching
intentions paralyzed
till the breath runs out,
torn between notions
of duty and desire.

each page

i held your book
upon my lap
as you sat still before me,
each page a tiny lock of hair,
on fire, alive and flowing,
touching something
beyond the skin,
some deeper beauty
culled within.

i wanted to press
the pages to my lips,
to commit them all to memory,
in case our time
ran out too quickly,
and you forgot my bravery.

***

(old poem december//2009)

drawing shades

i smoke nails in red light
dreaming of another life
where i'm allowed to follow
that path of freckles
trailing along
your golden arm,
while your eyes are closed
in the quiet cave of sleep,
and you dream about me differently.

while we are the sum
of what we've been given,
we're also the sum
of what's been taken,
and of what we'll never receive,
like the chance to
whisper into your throat
ever so softly.

now i'm getting better
at drawing shades
across the window
resting upon my chest,
but every once in awhile
i have to let some light in,
and the sound of your name
has always burned so brightly.

dirty lashes

oh honey honey,
your dirty lashes
and clean lips,
they give me
seizures in the night,
and i am foaming
at the thought
of your body in sunlight,
the trees listening
to our static charges
crackle and pop
in the air between
two parallel frames,
while you ask me questions
that i answer quickly,
so i can ask you more
and listen slowly.

hiding

i am hiding from you
because i cannot hide from myself.
every little winter's night
follows me around town,
chained to my chest by mistake.

your name reminds me
of all the time i gave you,
believing it would never run out.
there's an empty space in my head,
where the good words used to live,
that i cannot escape.

i wish the spirits talked to me
like they used to,
but they've given their chorus
to prettier kids,
they sing into their clean ears,
while i wait in the dusty closet,
hoping for original portents.