Something about you
is on its toes beside me.

I nod a cold face
at the chronicles displayed
in your lenses.
Your eyelashes are bristles
to keep the chapters scratched
and hidden.

If I let loose too many words, I will
miss what's inside you, gated well.

You shove your voice
like a splinter, into those
who won't aid a wound.
The brightest mess of wires
and fire I've ever been warmed by.

You roll your own tar.
The unlikely blend, Lying prone on your black-hole terrain.

Years of your life are
making you sick.
I'm silent, this time
to inspire you.
Refusing service, tonight
is only respectable.

I'm afraid,
what you could say is
inching into me.

04/14/2005

Posted on 04/15/2005
Copyright © 2025 Kimberly Rhode