In a way, we were like lovers.
in another, like those who
do not know each other at all,
but the magnetism of things interjects.
...& if only it was that easy to forget,
to not want to share this bed with you,
these lips like soft buds.
I’ve got freckled shoulders
and nights filled with bells,
electric eels that keep me awake
with only the sound of the wheezing &
whistling delivery vans of the early morning.
& as the newspaper slaps our porch,
wasps clatter at my ceiling
as if to say sustain us
as if to say love is waiting right here.
1 comment:
this is some poem
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