Saturday, February 11, 2012

Paris in the Nighttime

He hung Paris on the wall, as though to explain:
That's where we fall, somewhere far away,
That's where we love, behind the scenes.
That's what he does and then he leaves.

I study the tower at abrupt mornings' ends
Out of the shower and we're back to friends
All intimacy is gone, I stare at the painted lights
I long for our seemingly imagined nights.

He hung Paris on the wall, as though to say:
Please don't fall, but don't go too far away.
Listen for my call, and we'll escape the day,
And crawl again through the cracks of this place.

Sunday, February 5, 2012

Breakdown Waiting

I'm waiting for the breakdown
By blatantly avoiding it
My thoughts are foreshadows
"He's nice. I don't trust him, though."
It is nausea over a date at his house
Nausea over drooling, needy men
I am waiting to unabashedly scream
"What the hell do you want from me?!"
Instead I whisper tears that won't fall
And I try to run from a painful crawl.