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Literature Text
you spend the evening
wondering what love is like,
sitting in the dark.
wondering what love is like,
sitting in the dark.
Literature
gardenia
the five-a.m. floor protested
my sleepless dreaming.
i got up to make you coffee,
no sugar: you were never fond
of sweetening things that needed it.
i drank it on the autumned porch
in the stupor of dawn
and watched my breath unfurl,
like the smoke you spew sometimes
when you're stressed or have something to hide.
i'm sorry i took
your favorite sweater with me
but i knew it would be cold
in the soil with your secrets
and the brooch she left behind.
Literature
on rust and hunger
marbles roll in my mouth,
gathering lint,
the dryness of disuse.
they clatter behind
my teeth
when I try to speak,
clutter absurdly
when I move my
jaw.
my ribs open,
leaf-like,
along a spine;
I am a creature of hinges and screws.
I am a swell of minerals like hymns.
I am a polite impossibility, a
quiet sacrilege, a
dove's breast from which
delicate, thin lines drip.
Literature
cheater
I am not your confessor.
as to the sins, the pleasures that
flung themselves at your
heels,
I couldn't care much less.
her body is no less yours
than mine is;
I do not fool myself that I own
even this small part of you.
"it meant nothing"—
was she then just a tool,
a device to use and dispose of?
you tell me that you wasted
no charms on her,
that she threw herself at you
and (almost accidentally)
you slipped.
but why tell me at all?
my delusional darling,
did you really think I'd give a fuck?
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Comments2
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Love the double meaning of "sitting in the dark." 