pensivepoet
Love dangerously
- Joined
- May 21, 2014
- Posts
- 7,667
limping round and round
not close to whirl,
the ceiling fan creaked
and clacked like a three legged dog, no longer caring
of it's tail.
"Mmmm....that was wonderful"
she lied, or perhaps, believed.
while on my back, hands
clenched behind my head,
I wondered
did she call me lover
because I was?
or because it was easier
than admitting names?
and from across the street
Wally's Tavern flashed code
upon our tombstone walls,
yellow, and green, and red
while a lone moth, scrambled
to decipher for all.
a wave from an Indonesian earthquake, i felt her stir,
rolling in my direction
and her cheap perfume
flooded my face.
You asleep? She purred
~the only question
you can lie to in silence.
and my mind, writing an epic
said simply, no.
sleep? with that damned clock
playing bass to the crippled fan
igniting a freight train
wild of tracks while Wally's
frantically signals
that a wreck is imminent?
I wished I had lied.
and i wanted to smell my fingers
to see if she was still there
but my head was using them,
and when i told my thigh
to keep its distance
I found it too uncaring
to escape.
In search of a felony, lights
and sirens screamed passed
the window, and the moth
flew to see.
In the shadow of street lights,
I saw her red panties
slung over the chair
and understood why bulls
dare the dagger.
Looking down at the wave
sliding lazily to Hawaii, i spoke
feeling price for the silence.
"you should sleep"
A half hour later, the
seas were calm
the clock and fan were
a marching band
and the sirens returned
still searching for the wreck
I held in cacaphonous quiet.
She wont miss me
in the morning
or hold it against me
next week
for this is the way
of lovers and moths
down on Baker Street
not close to whirl,
the ceiling fan creaked
and clacked like a three legged dog, no longer caring
of it's tail.
"Mmmm....that was wonderful"
she lied, or perhaps, believed.
while on my back, hands
clenched behind my head,
I wondered
did she call me lover
because I was?
or because it was easier
than admitting names?
and from across the street
Wally's Tavern flashed code
upon our tombstone walls,
yellow, and green, and red
while a lone moth, scrambled
to decipher for all.
a wave from an Indonesian earthquake, i felt her stir,
rolling in my direction
and her cheap perfume
flooded my face.
You asleep? She purred
~the only question
you can lie to in silence.
and my mind, writing an epic
said simply, no.
sleep? with that damned clock
playing bass to the crippled fan
igniting a freight train
wild of tracks while Wally's
frantically signals
that a wreck is imminent?
I wished I had lied.
and i wanted to smell my fingers
to see if she was still there
but my head was using them,
and when i told my thigh
to keep its distance
I found it too uncaring
to escape.
In search of a felony, lights
and sirens screamed passed
the window, and the moth
flew to see.
In the shadow of street lights,
I saw her red panties
slung over the chair
and understood why bulls
dare the dagger.
Looking down at the wave
sliding lazily to Hawaii, i spoke
feeling price for the silence.
"you should sleep"
A half hour later, the
seas were calm
the clock and fan were
a marching band
and the sirens returned
still searching for the wreck
I held in cacaphonous quiet.
She wont miss me
in the morning
or hold it against me
next week
for this is the way
of lovers and moths
down on Baker Street