are we to lie alone or together? colored without touch
like a chameleon
in conversation our opening minds are but maddening pages of thickness stuck together, as one reminds one of the numb meaning pasted richly in mucous and sweat. so we will write out the next chapters of desire and anguish.
so are we my dear not so unlike
my love
are we alone and then together turning the story over and over on each other so that we can only touch, knowing that no one has read deeply into our whispers and shouts
and as i leave my mark I see how
She sat at the corner
of my table side manner and feigned to read to me a sentence or two on the art of lipstick sentences and hourglass shades;
how we can only be applied correctly if one is in the right mind set or left waiting in a wrong movement. I cough as She pulls from her purse the very instrument of topic, I pray as she pursed her lips together and begins to lie, or sigh, either way
I weep.
And I never knew more about a woman before her lips curled, expressing profound colored images into my ears
in bliss.
So I laugh.
My old, self confident self, selling my connections into the magic. My dark words only seem to distance me farther and farther away from all the true belief of me as me not me in thought.
Then we kiss.
We smile.
And lay in languid glances across each others subtle risings.
She then disappears so easily behind easy conversation. I wonder if I even to deserve to talk to her
anymore.
I feel so dull.
With my graces cluttered in tainted silver and tarnished in linens, a thinner part of me escapes only to collapse once again into foolish reasoning.
So I try not to speak, and let her talk, And listen.
are we to lie
alone
or together? colored without touch
like
a
chameleon
in conversation our opening minds are but
maddening pages of thickness stuck together,
as one reminds one of the numb meaning pasted
richly in mucous and sweat. so we will write out
the next chapters of desire and anguish.
so are we my dear not so unlike
my love
are we alone and then together
turning the story over and over
on each other so that we can
only touch, knowing that
no one has read deeply into
our whispers and shouts
and as i leave my mark I see how
She sat at the corner
of my table side manner and feigned to read to me
a sentence or two
on the art of lipstick sentences and hourglass shades;
how we can only be applied
correctly if one is in the right mind set
or left waiting in a wrong movement.
I cough as
She pulls from her purse
the very instrument of topic,
I pray as she
pursed her lips
together
and begins to lie,
or sigh, either way
I weep.
And I never knew more about a woman before
her lips curled, expressing profound
colored images into my ears
in bliss.
So I laugh.
My old, self confident self, selling
my connections into the magic.
My dark words only seem to distance
me farther and farther away from
all the true belief of me as me
not me in thought.
Then we kiss.
We smile.
And lay in languid glances across
each others subtle risings.
She then disappears so easily
behind easy conversation. I wonder
if I even to deserve to talk to her
anymore.
I feel so dull.
With my graces cluttered in tainted silver
and tarnished in linens, a thinner part of me escapes
only to collapse once again
into foolish reasoning.
So I try not to speak,
and let her talk,
And listen.
That's all she really wants.
just listen...