I could live in small spaces
if the wine was fruity
and plentiful
and I had a window facing west.
All of the left over money would
go to organic food shopping once
a week, and the amount of gas
money it takes to go camping
every weekend.
I. Want. This. Place.
Our roommates are only your
extensive collection of
one-on-one entertainment
things you do when I am
busy being myself.
The worlds you get lost in,
that may, or may not include me.
I am desperately heartbroken
that you've never seen
so many fireflies.
That you are anxious
to get home before dark.
want. to. Stay.
You stare at a statue.
You look at me.
You say out loud to no one
“If someone made a statue
of that face people would
come for miles”
You have bedroom eyes.
You're mellow.
No affectations.
No “movie-talk”
You're yourself.
I kiss you.
I wish you would freeze solid like a statue.
I. want. You. to. Stay.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Tickle your toes. . .
-
there ain't no other place like you to roam. where I dug in my heels and said "No, I won't come home!" Dancing in the warb...
-
Under a blanket it was at high altitudes in love or nauseous? I once held his hand his touch was so soothing-but with a lion's face. and...
-
Private Edgar Perry for Edgar Allen Poe I reported for duty, a Bostonian, surly, moody, unsteady. Twenty and two, not eighteen, Yes, twenty ...
-
I was just awarded the Stylish Blogger Award! (awarded by John Evans ) I was asked to write 7 things about myself,and to award 10 ot... -
We're both writers but, why is it that we cannot truly express what it is we feel without the recommendation of a movie reel- We're ...
-
Ah, 7. The number in question. During this process of developing my first full-length work of prose, and a memoir to boot, I have considered...
-
lean in a little. say it like it's a secret. make your breath sound like italics. click your tongue against the roof your mouth then you...
-
Urine and Lilies for Pablo Neruda I had an early love for Walt Whitman. I did. He was not by any means a concrete idol, jutting out over the...
-
and now that the anger is gone there may be a few more glimpses like looking out of the window through a thin veil of silk. a look in...
-
nipped at the ankles which is how I wander through life sometimes I must be pushed through a door finally opened after years of knock...
Poets United Contributor
No comments:
Post a Comment