slow words
drip from you
in whiskeyed slurs.

there is a violence
in our bodies vicious torrent.
you clench and writhe,
i pulse and quiver.

i am only nervous
after we make love.

i have made more candid proclamations
and i wonder, again,
if i've asked too much of you.

in the blindness of night
we are just bones against each other
but in the morning,
our backs pressed together
belong to conscious minds.

the fuse is torn
by the separation of tongues
and i worry when we wake for days
you'll realize you're quite through
with broken things.

09/25/2009

Posted on 09/26/2009
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