PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

She ran her fingers through my hair and
turned the sky orange.
I gazed into dark lashes and rolled her on my tongue;
let her slip through my nostrils on a wisp of cloves.

Airplanes floated adrift our brain cells as
we wrapped our lips around the
bright eye in the center of our conscious
and tasted envy.
Reflex motions of my heart slipped a beat or two and
rearranged the notes that drift through my fingertips;
the same ones to write songs of yesterday.

From where I sit amongst the flowering organs
of today’s roadkill still waiting for their souls to rest
I can almost make out the irrationalities of perfection
in every pair of feet that still trudge along the worn path
and stumble hard onto one knee in the presence of reality,
but allow me to look a little further up now
and lose myself in the oil paints smeared behind her eyelids
until the day is swallowed ever so delicately
and I might somehow slip into the fields of my subconscious
where her fingers are always wrapped in my tangles
and envy rides as an aftertaste to cloves still on my tongue.

Its nights like these that my breath catches
and for the briefest fraction of forever I wonder
what it would be like to live in this existence.