orgami's Diaryland Diary

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handsome

sown the frown
slips a cold hand
along my collarbone
the burgundy bottoms
of wine cups turn
into moons staining
laughs

no speaking
just the breath to
breath in width
room hesitations

shes a good girl
seen the word
and pressed her
charity dollar
between paperback
heaven

tied her laces
and bit her lip
for good luck

when they shoot
from the hip
the close cut
graze is the best
she says nodding
her head

like a fever when
youve strayed to
far from the bed
like a dog shaking
in the lightning daze

stay awake too long
and fall into the craze

but babe it aint no
mystery Fill my words
with the slur of your
history
and nothing aint gonna
slow me down
but dead moons
and lily blooms

12:48 a.m. - 2011-07-02

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