Tuesday, July 18, 2017

Beautiful Resistance (For Lambryah)


These words will not save me
They’re not intended for such paltry tasks
In the middle of the night I called out to her and she arrived in a honey pot

Somethings make sense, while others do not
The way you opened up and are now shutting down tears at my chalky bones like an illiterate adult trying to read the Jewish News
I always jump to conclusions and someday I’ll probably jump in front of a train. That’s just what poets do when poets run out of Wheel of Fortune consonants and vowels

I know you don’t understand when I say I believe you’re the last person I’ll ever make love to and perhaps that statement is both over the top and pathetic in its statuesque randomness
It’s just I’ve known since the first time you tried to hide your smile from me while on video chat that we were more than meant to be and that a late checkout would not be a problem
Every time I experience you in your birthday suit it’s like the very first time because your beauty both bewitches and bewilders me like the best graphic novels always have a tendency doing

You play inside of me like the most haunted and ridiculously redundant of refrains and that’s a very good thing because I’ve never been able to memorize the words so humming will most definitely come in handy in a pinch
I left the station at half past nine while in my mind it was our Brief Encounter that was of the utmost importance and left me whittled down like a sharp stick or canoe
In the middle of the afternoon I drank some much needed coffee and waited for you to respond. Thing is you’re most definitely losing interest and that is killing me like a thousand origami swan paper cuts to my already low self-esteem.

Charles Cicirella

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