close the blinds, pillow case
to pillow case, soft is the opposite
of your voice, but still hoarse from
the screaming, close the doorways
doorway to cracked doorway,
believing in everything but me
and I've never understood why
*
in this quiet bedroom
there's one resting peacefully
there's one wrestling with thoughts
replaying the music of her lulling
voice whispering in the ears
my left ear has been plugged;
all I want to hear is you tonight say
"rock me slowly, baby, 'cause everything
is moving to quickly and I'm afraid
of the future" and I don't, your wondering
who you'll replace me with
and I am still wrestling
*
Spring is starting to lift its wings
under the raining skin, yet it's deosculating
the pores, Nature's lips, it drips
on all, irrelevant poet and homeless
both the wanderers with waning interest
she moves on, upon the backs of the hearts
she slayed and I could give more for
the nape of her neck, the archway of her spine
the last of the tape X's out, the last time
I see her was early morning out the closet
her naked back; marks the time
I'll never see her again
and my voice echoes helplessly
YOU ARE READING
bang bang!
Poetryyou know what would be more cool than a blank white cover with text on it? a blank white cover with a toy pistol on it, of course!
