……in the corners of the world
unseen but for
beautiful, demonic months
hopping the night’s blues
or
sun-kissed wildflowers
growing in abandoned strip malls
i think you won’t find round edges
but rather unfolded pages
(i like to collect them) (they hide unrequited truths)
(the ones that roll off your tongue when you’ve forgotten how to pronounce)
(the right thing to say)
and i wonder whose brave enough to write about crumpled pages?
how do you pronounce the name of lost soulmates?
no one ever tells the full story
because truth be told,
all stories are
grotesque, piled corpses of the
never
to
be
repeated
past!
we prefer to unsee the scary holes
in our present left by what’s gone
it’s safer for our hearts, stolen like pennies under bus seats
yet i think a lot about
the familiar shapes of our smiles as we
texted each other
in the dark
smiles like summer oranges cut in half
the insides of your pink lips full and citrus-sweet
like they can only be when you’re young
when you’re blind except for the bejewelled bits of fantasy you can find in other people
and it’s sad that in the very corners of this old world,
disconnected from everything but money
and scattered discontent
often i only find the cracks where i would have liked for you to hold me by the back of my hair
and kiss me like that one last time
kiss me like
if we can’t have forever let’s pray to the beautiful instants
but in these same cracks,
i no longer feel comfortable but stuck
In the realization
that people like you and i have outgrown each other
Recent Comments