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In This Languid Afternoon
In this languid afternoon,
I could be slipping
In the soft mattress
With the smell of Saturday night,
But my thoughts are wallowing
Unto a distant sight
Of you,
Tuckin’ in an ironed shirt,
Brushing some strands of hair
To a date
I could only use a bet
To wish I was the girl,
Who could suffuse
To the spell
Of your smell
Hanging
On your skin;
The girl who gapes
At the look,
Which I just traced
In my fingers
through an air,
Thinning,
As it is surreal.
Those are the things
Slithering,
As they seether
In my broken head.
I couldn’t pretend
Again
And anymore
That they are not there;
That you were an arm’s length.
To the girl
Who chuckles at your jest
In a dinner
I could just dream
Away..
I have been fallin’
And tossin’;
Sighin’;
Beatin’ badly
And turning
To a bed
Since I knew him,
Worse,
When I run thoughts of him.
You see,
I better be changing the sheets,
Chasing the tunnel fading
Before another girl would leap
Across my soundless sleep.
