I lie broken, as God made me
quite improper,
these thoughts, mosaic schisms,
a sort of awful art.
i have tried to love you,
cells and nerves, sparking wires through all
the parting
flesh of my brain, endlessly spiraling.
your lips, they are stumbling towards mine,
terrible, they make this much too real.
i imagined them, electric,
as they lied stroking against mine, like a sweet harp.
and though i was entwined in you,
only silence stood,
raw and ill.

06/23/2004

Author's Note: About unrequited love... from a different, yet empathetic perspective.

Posted on 06/23/2004
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