Your thoughts - or, lack thereof,
Pierce me like tiny paper cuts covering the length of my body.
My stomach burns from the whiskey and the thought of you,
On your bed,
Smiling, with your fleshy lips parted slightly,
Smiling in the gash of a window that is spilling dusty light onto your cheeks,
Smiling without me.
I still call you in a hazed blur of swollen words that all rush to get out of my throat.
I get your machine and waste no time to declare an uncomfortable amount of thoughts I repeat a thousand times in my head.
The dinner table looks a million miles long when I see you again.
We barely speak,
You touch my hand one more time,
Rough and fast, and I can't remember the last time you'd wanted to touch me, to kiss me.
You peck my cheek one more time and I can't remember my name,
But I remember, in a vivid streak of hot tears, how we used to kiss at this table. How you used to make me feel so worthy.
You sound like a Bible verse when you tell me,
And I am here again,
Swallowed by an inky blackness that drips onto the paper I call my friend.
You are now a ghost that swings its chains to wake me up at night.
I cannot see through you.



  • willyweed

    this is very well written, nice style and flow
    fleeting love yet hope gives a slight hint
    more please. ww

  • Augustus

    Your comment says you want to start a flame in the heart, yet I get mixed messages in the poem rich in metaphor, a push me pull me kind of feeling. That does not mean I don't like it. I like it a lot.

  • lovedud

    Thank you very much for your comments it means a lot.

  • ron parrish aka wordman

    a sweet poem of love,longing
    beautiful images

To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.