Wednesday, July 09, 2008


I remember the curve of your back dear and
The smell of your skin when you smoke

People are asking me to make decisions.

And you know as well as I that my desires
Are too thick and wide to pave a straight road
A path to travel.

This is not Oz.
Welcome to the Jungle.

Part of me can’t dance; part of me can.
Part of me kisses someone else.

But my mind always goes back to your
Back pockets and your keychain, your soap.

Your eyebrow cocked.
Your ass on a bar stool.

The last breath of a rotten youth cured.

After sometime of breathing deep a different air
Like some wandering senator on a lost weekend
I realize, as he might never do:

That my fingers are yours, dear
My breath is yours
My toes are yours
And I cry your tears.

My wedding band runs through the net of my veins
Like no simple ring could ever do, it binds me to you.

Here, it is dark and leafy and far from your white skin.

People are asking me to make decisions.

I want to stay here, I want to be with you, I argue with myself
And I’m losing.

But you’re a solid ache that is always with me: I love you as I love no other.

I carry you in my body.

It is a malediction.

It is a kiss.

It is a sentence:

A pulling to a thousand pieces.

Clouds to disappear.

Monsoon to drown me.

We are not apart, and never will be.

Whether I like it or not: it’s love.

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