Thursday, April 20, 2017

9/30 Strike

(Some of my 30/30 are poems written years ago finally reworked or edited. This is one of those.)

Wedged against a boulder scraping at flesh and bone.
The pain of getting to know what comes next,
what that look in your eyes actually means,
and what part of that definition will be left with the wreckage.
Wearing silence a halo pierced through with desire with hope.
Little running motions up my spine. Blood filtered through
the promise of forgotten promises.
When our lips first met in that pure place. Wild dogs bayed
at an unseen moon. Our teeth clashed and bit the way we
reached inside of each other. A forgone conclusion an eventual tumult.
We left our innocence wiped it away sweaty intentions.
Pride to proud to mention in that moment.
Clumsy and messy with all the moving parts and I knew I would not survive.

You held me too close, broke me, as if I were a fever.

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