Nosebleed (day 101)

I fall a thousand times before morning,

spitting out handscribbled love notes,

Muse uses my tongue as loose scratch paper

and spells out galaxies I wish I could speak the languages of

but only when there’s no one around.


I’ve learned to fear love more than a chainsaw

because love can cut me in more pieces.

So I buy a chainsaw from his steel-tipped sentences

I don’t know the difference between them and

the love notes that fall off my tongue.


Falling apart’s better than a mistaken pen taking over

my sandpaper earthquake throat

I’ve learned to fear love more than your fingers

because even when they’re not wrapped around my hand or my face or my neck

I always end up with a nosebleed.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 11/2/16


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allets's picture

So, Eventually

I will write a poem about a nosebleed. Oh joy! I shall also do it in a potpourii of metaphors :D - allets -