Thursday, February 02, 2017

Fourteenth Poem (Katie)

https://www.podomatic.com/podcasts/charlespoet/episodes/2017-02-02T18_19_57-08_00

You astound me and delight me and set me on fire.
Take the words you like and leave the rest for the wolves.
The very first time I looked into your eyes on FB I knew I needed to find a way to Scotland so I could hold you in my arms as the world burned.

Let’s binge watch all the television we’ve been meaning to watch for eons and when we’re done let’s start back at the beginning never forgetting to press pause when we get up to use the water closet or turn the page of our favorite murder mystery.
You’re an expectation that will never be met because when it comes to Katie Boyd I have no expectations and have placed all of my dreams waking or otherwise on hold.
Smitten doesn’t even begin to cover how I feel about you because you’ve been inside my psyche since before I was born and will forever live in my heart like the best kind of cholesterol.

I desire to watch you pounce like a tiger as you focus on your prey and go about playing with it like string before lulling it into a deep sleep because outright killing has never been your modus operandi.
You are a hunter of the highest degree because you got bored hunting humans and moved onto silencing what lurks in the shadows of every crime noir dead end street.
I don’t know what I’m talking about, but that suits us both fine because we’ve learned to trust our instincts and to never talk with our mouths full or when our hearts are breaking.

Sometimes I hold back the words until they’re about to pop then I quickly sit down and spray my fingers across the keys like insect repellent or a St. Bernard’s coveted drool.
I’m not fooling I want to stand outside a bakery with you waiting for them to open so we can get the doughnuts hot out of the fryer as we cover our mouths in powdered sugar and forget the Doomsday Clock has been moved two and a half minutes to midnight.
You have rocked my world to its very core and I pray my poetry comforts you when a wild night is calling and even Van Morrison cannot quiet your panic attacks.

Charles Cicirella
2/2/17

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