Her voice is the background music:
The pleasant sip of sunshine
you get from
a remainder,
dividing potential by
habit.
Crisp and loving, but better
left behind
after falling
from your chair laughing.
Jumping in beside her,
finding
a difference of
10 degrees.
There's plenty more cliffs,
I just really liked that one.
If it doesn’t rip me to shreds,
I don’t want it.
Jaw dropping love
all tired and sore,
chests heaving
with exasperated brilliance.
Where do I find the energy?
In snooze fests
around a warm,
gentle lake
algae in full bloom.
What fun is that?
I see your island
and I call.
Is that true then?
An old man
with bitter excuses for
his loneliness.
Beg pardon, imagine please,
exiling yourself
for pity's sake.
Sanctimony
where you could
love instead.
A novelty, she turns each page with as much emotion as she reads. Petals pressed, feathers caught, stories from the back of the book; pages no one else sees. A leak in performance held by drying wrinkles. I stared at each word so long, clinging for dear life to everything she whispered, the slow march of typeface across skin. Dangling by fear and craving off the sidewalk’s end.
Scribbles 'n Bits 