Flaxen boy meets many worlds
in her eyes

and the lies that are spun
on silk thread burn in her
burn in him as he slips and allows each blue wail
to fall deaf onto flesh
as he pounds without feeling
and sheets are stained black with exertion
and lives are unzipped
as they fall to the floor
in a crumpled and wrinkled old heap
in the corner

.

he asks
all the questions that search
through the phone lines for answers in
tone and in colour
the shape of a lover
the sound of her fingers
the taste like an acid
corrosive
so caustic
and sweet like fried fruit on a sidewalk
in Asia
in August
in every light detail he finds
so-imposed on her features

.

In wishing
I wish I could I could bring you
a shining impression
a satin carved dream of forever and now
and for always
alas
I am only your soldier
and fighting for causes that I can't believe in

.

And I say
I'm sorry

.

"I'm-
sorry?"





"God."





"I know..."



"I'm sorry."
.

05/31/2005

Posted on 06/01/2005
Copyright © 2024 Trisha De Gracia