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
7/18/17
No comments:
Post a Comment