our existence
is a spiraling tunnel,
shadows and stairs, bellowing.

you've spoken to me
in my sleep,
subliminal messages
of "it'll be all right,"
"live to fight another day," and
"tomorrow will come,
just close your eyes."

i do.
and when i wake,
when i rouse,
i fall into these depths and
swim in your memory.

you've grown colder,
more sobering.
i swallow you in one shot,
feel the burn in the pit of me.
you hand me explanations,
wrapped in pretty gossamer,
a bow placed for my consumption.

and you beg my forgiveness
for turning your face,
turning your back to me.

and i say,
"yes, this is what will be,
this is what our
glass houses have become.

so give me a future,
of arms circled and golden,
of bands that don't break.

(give me your heart,
but only when it's mine.)

01/10/2004

Author's Note: from the topic thread. and i do it no justice. Oi. oi.oi.

Posted on 01/10/2004
Copyright © 2025 Rachelle Howe