lost-in-the-sunshine

His touch was soft His voice was confident His will was strong As was his body He was an Alpha ...and I beckoned to that call. A lifeless little bird. Baby chirps of frail bones And injured wings

He was galliant At the time, As the time permitted. And that clock combusted Into our faces We may have laughed We may have cried We may have shards That merit an itch ...but what does that mean. Who is he really Who am I? Are we truly in love Or in love with a thought Riddle me that.

It's 4 am. And I shove poems down your well That you will never find. ..to find.solace in that. To leave you behind

I love you. ..it is not enough you see. Every day of all day long I think of you ...and the nights are the worst It's not enough you see. Our love. Our folly. My fickle. Your persistence. It. Is Not enough. I love you. We are not enough

I crawl to the bathroom To throw up Everything about You I hold inside. Until the day that I die. So baby this is the hush and tell A bottled up version of all of our sorrow To flush down into the toilet Except the bile never came... ...it was just clever positioning Of the way a little girl felt about her whore. The man of a likeness that struck her stripped and barren.  Lost in a folly and a falsehood. Crying over a toilet with lost songs.

He beckoned unto me A light to pierce ..and I was alone in my darkness

Your scent ..an incessance Your teeth a burning Our laughs A fading memory And your love A lasting bruise. Such a lashing. And I was your masochist. Bracing each and every strategy Fill me up baby I wave my red flag

His blue eyes shone unto me And I was a moth to that flame. His teeth they bite into me And I was his prey all the same I lay here. Night upon night. Thinking of that man. ..and all his good riddance. ...and shame.

Ever since I found out you still cared I drink it all away And now I hover over a toilet bowl ...trying to forget your love Or the way you tatse And the way your teeth are so perfect

To see you To feel you To laugh, ..just once more Will I reach out and pry Bare the name of a whore I miss you Day in, Day out The sins we did muster Still merit a shout. But mister. Please. Hear me now. Feel my heart. God. Hear my howl. Can you hear me, Sweet fix.. Can you feel me now... I liken you a pig. And liken me your sow. To long for you To feel you near ..to scratch at one's neck ..to be one's drug, ...my dear.

The morning is a tapestry... tripping over last night's grace, I watch you weave your skin and shake out your hair - soft teal and jonquil shadowing your cheek as the curtains part between your hands. Threads tangle as you turn, telling me dawn is a gentle lover, and the tumble of birds plaiting their soft notes lingers on the pillows where your smile is my undoing.

I am the saint You are the sinner I am the loser You are the winner I am the storm You are the calm I am the chafe You are the balm I wear your thoughts You eat my soul I'm all in pieces You are my whole I long for peace You adore war I am your virgin You are my whore I steal emotion You live for reason I am too loyal You thrive on treason I break your heart You bleed my mind You say I'm gentle You're cruel to be kind

After the thrill of the hunt you are still here - churning me up inside, making me into something like a river or a catastrophe. I can almost see you standing there on the porch in the half-light of naked wood and nails, smoking your cigarette - dressed up like a riddle. What did you call me again? Something that rhymed with Brian or David that you could only pronounce with your mouth full. I let you wear your boots to bed. I let you lie about your age and your husband, and the fact that the library wanted you for murder. But you just moved through my room wearing my shirt and sweater like you knew someone was missing - like the socks and s

I remember the colors you made that night on the porch when the fireflies claimed the air around us - the bright blue blazing between your fingers as you said breathing was a trick of the night. I raised your hand to touch my face, feeling the pink trail of the morning yet to come humming on your palm and the deep pulse of orchid staining my mouth in soft surrender.

Midnight's tawdry pulse is feeble under my fingertips, and her long black dress feels like August slipping through my fingers. I like how her bones complain that I misuse them, tender to my touch, and how her jaw arches back and the moon arcs like a razor across the room. We flaunt the stars, the stones under our skin stretching the bed frame till we crack. And I fill you up, your arms a battle raging in the waning lies of morning.

I'm bleeding... Dying... While you laugh... With a bloody stench... Right on your breath... Well Frisk... You win... You got me pinned... And now I am dead... ....... Well... I'm off to Grillby's... To buy a drink... For the last time... Before I-... .... Papyrus... Do you... Want anything?