lips
in tendrils reaching
for mine.
Softly, sweetly, they ascend
to pollute the air
we breathe, we share,
in sickenley sacharine fumes.
Funny how
poison is the murkiest
but, always
the sweetest.
Smoke escapes your
lips in tendrils reaching for mine. Softly, sweetly, they ascend to pollute the air we breathe, we share, in sickenley sacharine fumes. Funny how poison is the murkiest but, always the sweetest.
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Staring out this window pane,
waiting for the storm to pass, trying to see through the rain. I’m still praying that this pain won't last. She lays too still, too quiet, too small, in linens too white and clean. The only thing I can hear besides my tears is the constant hum of her life on machines. It can be the same sweetie, you don't need to say goodbye. just close your eyes and fall to sleep, This hurricane will soon die. It comes and goes when it feels, it rolls and thunders in scattered swells. My hands, they shudder on the steering wheel. Foot to the floor, these miles I’ll steal. Because time went by too damn fast, now it’s caught in a sand grained gravel road. Wheels are sputtering and my thoughts stuttering since I've been wishing for our time to last. The taste of grape cool-aid and ketchup kisses, the sounds of laughter in sprinkler rain, echo in my memory; after all these years, they still remain. But when I think of them now, they only bring pain. It can be the same honey, you don't need to say goodbye. Just stay far from the churning seas so I won’t hear those trumpets cry. I’m in search of that free world country, the one we left in July. You headed for your neon lights and I, the ones in the turning night sky. We’re back where we started kid, to golden glow days, amazing how time changes as hours are taken away. It’s time to rest that rubber I've been burning like a lighter, in hopes you would want to stay. It can be the same baby, you don't need to say goodbye. just love me the way you held me like you did the last July. Come to the river of gold!
You'll find your long lost blue, he’ll be waiting there in the tide, waiting there for you. His hair set ablaze by the sun’s final golden rays against the rusting trees and their falling copper leaves. The river of gold; where your loved one was was sold to his country’s seas. His country “tis of thee, making it a sweet land of liberty for your children to see. For them to have, for them to hold because of what you’ve lost in that river of gold. That song held a sweet memory
I could dance it all night long putting dreams in my eyes and in your steps. Every turn, every sway, every drop I could see dreams in your eyes, on your lips, their sweet longing. But it will never be. ‘Cause there are other girls who see the same dreams in your eyes, on your lips, who feel your sweet longing. I still hear that song and can't help but feel its blooming in my chest, flowering through my fingers, lacing through yours. I try, but can't forget the warmth of your dreams. And though it pains me, I can't help but dance it all night, even though I dance alone. Broken hearts on beaten hardwood floors
Among shattered plastic and crushed ice cubes Crunching underfoot her tattered boots. Twirling and fluttering her black dress, She dances away her memories With every step And puts down every shot glass To chase away the pain. She lets their hands guide hers, spin her, hold her. Each one of them close So that they were further from her Than they ever could be. The salt and gin on their skin, An intoxicating barrier to what was hers. She’ll only dance with the wolves Because they'll never bleed. And oh, how willingly they dance With one they think is the sheep. The sky burns in sapphire
While his eyes pierce In a Pacific swell. The mountains to our west- a murky cobalt splashed by sorrel clouds, Looming over 10,000 karat grasslands. Gleaming and shining In Autumn sunlight. This trend I see, a recurring dream Like the fiery leaves That burst, soon falling dead, Time dies too soon so that Even a weekend decays. Falling away with the season, the leaves, The tide in his eyes, into my own abyss. But I don’t want the falling embers Because they burn and hurt Like whiskey on his lips and this recurring dream. So I flee from it, I run, I drive. I drive into that Cheyenne sky And let it swallow me up In blue. Freedom came in a glass bottle,
The eye watering Liberty Engulfed the room, the couch, And rang on my tongue. Freedom visited again, This time on a lie. It came ringing through the fire pit Of cans and newspaper. In the ringing we danced, we leapt Well into twilight’s last gleam, But I burned, I hurt Staring at his mirror of words. Freedom came in a glass bottle Disguised clear as plastic. It came wrapped up in, star spangled In a blurry dripping kiss And clammy sweet hands. But this freedom had a shelf life Waging for me in weeks When I had only begged for days. Just as it had come On a rocket’s red flare, it left While time passed me by. And a life does expire, So as I stare deep Into the shallow longing Of cloudy gleaming eyes, I see my pieces breaking off Kiss by kiss. And I burn, I hurt At this, the price of freedom and His bullet spraying truth. Summer slipped through
Her fingers Like tears from the sky. Her hands cupped Tightly in vain to catch The last drops. As the water ran through the cracks In her fingers, Her face ran down after it. And everything she was turned to vapor, While everything she knew Dripped down the drain. “He’s the Navy’s now,” she said, while the father couldn’t speak. Her voice, a cracking mask exposing the bitter truth That had filled them with joy. It once made them glow, puffing out their chests, smiling wide. That’s my boy, yes that’s him. Proud they will always be, but now they realize The price that must be paid For raising such a child Of rare character and integrity. A child who seeks honor. A child who wants to be a man. “And what an honor it is! To serve your country! To fight for those you love And those you'll never know!” They had said. “How prestigious, how impressive!” They’ll never pay a dime! Oh, but he’ll pay with his time And oh, they’ll pay With their child’s life on the line. But he is no longer theirs, no longer their baby, their child. He is a man. He is the Navy’s now. Is goodbye the muting of the freeway’s song?
The deafening silence on the passenger side? Is it death from the cold Without a shoulder-- Yours? Is it my body becoming numb And my feet blistering and crumbling? Are my ribs no longer to ache, To shake and wheeze With laughter? My hands will search for you in that goodbye, But they will only find empty space And me inside of it, clutching our memories. So they’ll hold my face While inked rain falls And stains them Instead of you. |
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