PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I am thinking of you...
your placid eyes, so
much darker then my own
Wherever you are, you are touching things with
your hands
Feeling how the sun warms them, so warm
yeah so warm
I miss the texture of your voice,
your selfish consolations
the way you never really tell me you love me

I used to dance with the shiny revolver
I would spin the barrell, check each chamber
click and un click,
point at the mirrow at the center of my throat
And I would wait, for a day of reconcile
that one day, to shake hands with my demons and
pull that silver string and empty out my contents

It was the circles, really
The gaps that never surrendered the truth
The times I couldn't stomach the
thought of you near me
or away from me
or the in between days that I just
forgot you entirely

and sometimes, I put on my christopher columbus hat and
I find a street where there are no names

sometimes I put on my crying shoes and
I go back home
to the fields
to the morning glories
to the place that I found you,
unearthed and surfacing.