|
[explicit ] topic: i'll love you when i'm ready to die
by Rachelle Howei buried your diatribe,
became your epitaph.
you were there, beneath the waves,
in that sickened sea wash sense.
i threw you up.
you emerged sputtering speeches
and holier-than thou-commentaries.
i listened as my ears bled.
you smiled through crooked lips.
you lied twice more than any pathological .
tell me that you don't
moan his name when the vibrator
clicks on and you're trapped
in wet dreams and hard-ons.
you're as lost as you fear
your past, your hunting ground...
trust me, perfect one,
your time is coming soon.
bury the hatchet
(in my chest)
hand me the pills
(the ones by your nightstand)
i loved you too late, remember? 10/07/2003 Author's Note: topic by Gabriel Ricard. pay him homage, now. RIGHT NOW, PEONS!
Posted on 10/07/2003
Copyright © 2024 Rachelle Howe
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Aaron Howard on 10/07/03 at 09:23 AM Great piece, painful imagry.. what else could you ask for? =) |
| Posted by Don Coffman on 10/07/03 at 09:49 AM Intense and ponderous, leaves me thinking of emotional frustrations with someone who doesn't appreciate it. |
| Posted by Quinlan L Gibson on 10/07/03 at 01:35 PM well kick-my-ass, this rocks! |
| Posted by Lori Johnson on 10/07/03 at 07:24 PM I am so jealous of you & everyone else that can hop on that topic boat & sail!
This is wonderfully painful (how's that for an oxymoron?). *wink*
|
| Posted by Jeanne Marie Hoffman on 10/07/03 at 07:45 PM so dark and biting |
| Posted by Max Bouillet on 10/07/03 at 10:51 PM Howe in the world do you come up with such unique images. Howe? Great verse! |
| Posted by Ginette T Belle on 10/08/03 at 05:07 AM what can i say? words escape me...it's beautiful dear... |
| Posted by Kristine Briese on 10/13/03 at 08:24 PM I was talking to you when I read this; you know how much I love it. |
|
